#i have seen the hole in your ship | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

presidentsdaughter · 2 months ago

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SOFTER, SOFTEST !

ft. curly x fem!reader

tags. piv, body worship sort of, rimming, big dick, tit job for like 2 seconds, creampie, size kink, scent kink, balls…

note. hai.. will get back to leon soon and I think mw fandom is lacking noncon and incest fics severely.. so i will get on that with jimmy. don’t know how to characterise him yet so ooc .. just infatuated with his breasts tbh i don’t know anything works in this universe LMFAO like idk just take this with a grain of salt.. for miss @pupwashing please ignore typos !! unedited :3

You miss Curly.

You miss him more than you did yesterday, more than an idiot misses the point, like a dick misses a wet pussy–You just miss him.

It has been four months. Twenty-one weeks. One-hundred and forty days. Three-thousand, five-hundred and twenty hours. Too many minutes, a hell of a lot more seconds, the closer he gets the further he seems to be.

Big numbers make it feel like you’re getting nowhere so you cut those twenty-fours into one day. One day and he’ll be home. One day and you’ll be in bed with his stomach crushed against yours, the warmth of his flesh searing yours, fucking him into next year, until he loses his halo.

Videos aren’t enough, photos don’t do him justice, toys don’t live up to the feel of a real dick. You miss that face he makes when he cums - it’s a block away from his crying face. You miss him face down, ass up, punching holes into his dignity one thrust at a time. God, you miss that dick, how he goes red all over, him in nothing but that stupid fucking smile.

One day, you tell yourself in the mirror that morning. One day, you tell yourself when you take your lunch break. One day, one more microwaved meal for one, one more lonely night.

It used to be a big deal, you think. The whole going to space thing. Curly says it’s no big deal, but you’re pretty sure that in your great-grandpa’s heyday it was impressive. You’ve seen videos of hoards gathering to watch a ship take off, to greet crews when they landed. Today, it’s you and a plump, older woman in her bathrobe waiting in the cold.

You could spot him in any crowd, glowing like a ray of light, mostly because he’s tall, partly because everything fades into abstraction when you notice how tight his uniform is. Good god. Did he get bigger? You’re starting to sweat, it’s hard to focus when your boyfriend is making a long-sleeved jumpsuit look naughty.

Curly’s hair is a little longer, blond curls licking the nape of his neck, falling onto his forehead, his eyes are so bright and his smile is white. He looks like a policeman’s emotional support dog. A really busty support dog. He scans the sad scattering of friends, family and drivers. You’re so taken off guard by the sight of his buttons popping you almost forget to wave at him.

He beams when you spot him, suitcase dragging behind him as he jogs over. Everything is in slow motion. Like that old movie - Baywatch. He’s so excited to see you, taking you into his big arms, shoving your face in his chest like he knows just where you’d like to be. You’re disappointed in your lungs when they beg for air, lifting your head and placing it on his shoulder instead. He smells like sweat, hotel shampoo and something metallic.

“Oh.” You open your eyes and spot Jimmy skulking behind him, an unlit cigarette between his lips. You narrow your eyes at him, and Jimmy does the same. Real shady guy, the type you’d cross the street to avoid. He’s always trailing after Curly like a bad omen. “He can’t come home with us, honey,” you tell him gently, not wanting to sound like a bitch.

Which you are.

You don’t want him smoking in your car, you don’t want Curly to invite him over for takeout because that means it’ll go on for hours and you won’t get your mouth on his big, stupid dick for another day.

“Hm? Why not?” Curly asks, pressing a kiss into your hairline, the tip of his nose bumping yours tenderly.

“I don’t have space in my car for both of you and the luggage, she’s small. What if she tips over? You’re heavy enough as it is.” You smile at him, cheekily, giving his newfound hips a squeeze. They’ve always been there, but now they’re like wow. It’s only been four months, is he on steroids? Did he get pregnant? He is glowing… God knows what’s up there in the atmosphere, some cosmic horror waiting to knock up your poor boyfriend.

Curly shrugs, offering an apologetic smile to his friend. “You heard the lady.”

Jimmy’s permanent scowl seems to deepen, cementing itself in his dermal layer. “Whatever, man.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders slumped as he makes a beeline for the phonebox.

He lifts his suitcase and loads it into your car and you watch his biceps flex. You see through his clothes, you remember every freckle on his back, mapping them out like stars, leading to those dimples low on his back, the perfect resting spot for your thumbs when you grab his ass. His body is so convenient. Like he was made to be fucked every which way.

“I missed you, I thought about you everyday,” he says against your lips, leaning in to kiss you over the gearshift. “I put your picture in the cockpit actually, Jim didn’t like it, but it kept me going.”

Always so earnest. You almost feel bad for missing his body more than him.

“Aww, Curly, honey,” you coo, pinching his cheek and cupping the other, “I missed you even more.” He nuzzles into your hand, eyes closed as you comb your fingers through his messy hair.

As much as you would like to indulge his sentimentality, you have no patience to spare. If you sit here any longer, you’re going to soak through your jeans and onto your leather seat.

You put the car in drive—

“Captain? Open up!” There’s a younger man knocking on the window, leaving his grubby handprints behind. “I wanted you to meet my mom!” His voice is muffled through the glass.

You lock the windows.

“Did you lock the windows?” Curly asks, lips downturned like he’s about to pout.

You unlock the windows.

“Of course not, baby.” You pat his head and grit your teeth.

They talk for fifteen whole minutes.

Thank you for taking care of him, he can be such a handful—Oh no, not at all, he was a joy to have—I’m glad he came back in one piece—He’s a good kid—Oh, I don’t know about that—Mooom—I’d be happy to have him back for our next long haul—Seriously, Captain?—

You squirm in place, shifting from side to side, thighs pressed together as your panties stick to your core. When Curly introduces you to his crew mate, you offer a strained smile and nothing more.

The window whirs shut. You make it home in record breaking time with four tickets and only a few points taken off your license. It doesn’t matter. You’re home, inside with the curtains drawn and Curly still has clothes on.

That’s not right.

“Take it off.”

“Huh?” Curly pushes his luggage into the corner, the top few buttons of his jumpsuit have come undone and you see the tuft of blond hair on his chest.

“Take it off, please?”

“My clothes?”

“No, your wig, baby.”

He laughs, good-natured, mild-mannered, and so fucking hot.

If he won’t do it then you will.

“I haven’t even showered—“ He starts, but you shush him with a kiss, murmuring a ‘good’ against his pink mouth.

When you part, spit keeps your lips connected, the string of fate or whatever. You go in for another, hands fisting the fabric of his collar, forcing him down towards you. Curly lets out a keening noise somewhere in the back of his throat like a dog scratching at the bathroom door.

“I know, my baby, I’ll give it to you.” You pout at him, thumbing his kiss-swollen lips and watching his eyes droop. “Oh no…” The buttons on his uniform when you try to open them.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful of his own spit, “cheap stuff.”

“I know, but you looked so good in it.” It’s a shame, but you need to see him bare, sweat as his only accessory.

“You think?” He near bats his lashes at you, stepping out of his uniform, and you swoon.

“God, yeah.” You push him down on the couch, Curly falls back with a soft grunt. It’s not very big, especially for a man of his size, but it’ll do for now.

His cock swells in his boxers, you feel it beneath you as you sit atop him, admiring the view below. The wide expanse of his chest, the sweat pooling in his collarbones, those tits. You don’t know what else they could be.

“Wow.” You take a handful of his chest, plucking his puffy pink nipple. “Look at these, I might have some competition.”

“Shut it,” he huffs out a laugh through his nose, and the tips of ears redden.

“I’m serious, baby, you’re, like, huge.” You can’t tear your eyes away from his soft flesh, moulding beneath your fingertips like dough, you could fuck them if you really wanted. “What happened out there?”

“Had a lot of spare time, I guess.” Curly smiles sheepishly, expression contorting when you bend your neck to suck his nipple into your mouth with a wet pop! His jaw slackens, and his cock jumps like it’s been given quite the fright.

You only have one complaint. His tan lines have faded. Floating through the galaxy for months on end can do that to you. You miss them, but you missed Curly more, so you’ll make do with what you have.

And you have more than enough. More than you can handle really. You can’t even get a grasp on his bicep, he’s stupidly big and your hand is on the smaller side.

You shift backwards, wet cunt dragging over his impossibly big bulge where only his underwear keeps you from him - you kind of admire your pussy for being able to take it. Your mouth moves on, hands still groping as much as you can of his chest as you lick the ridges of his stomach, it’s like he’s forged out of marble.

Softly, Curly rubs the back of your head, trying his very best to keep his eyes on you and not let them fall shut. You feel his stomach muscles rippling under your tongue. They contract when you trace around his navel, placing a sloppy kiss just below it, where a patch of curly hair leads to his wet cock.

His cock is drooling through the white fabric of his boxers, they’re soaked enough to be see-through, you spot the fat, pink head that has been missing your kisses. “You’re so wet, baby, is it all for me?”

With a pitiful noise, he tosses his head back and nods sadly. It’s funny to hear a man of his stature whine, but it suits Curly so well.

Your fingers hook in the waistband, tugging his underwear downwards until his fat cock springs out, it’s so fucking fat it weighs itself down. The leaky head twitches, pre dripping down his thick shaft, leaving a moonlit trail to his heavy balls. So full of seed they might burst.

“Oh… Poor baby.” You give them a gentle squeeze, and Curly’s eyes roll back into his skull, hips jolting upwards.

The urge to take it into your mouth right then and there is tempting, you hold back, you want to take your time with him. Make him feel special. You seat yourself between his thighs, one leg thrown over your shoulder so it’s easier to fit on the sofa. Your thumb runs along his pink slit, dribbling out pearly strands of pre that web between your fingers. Curly whimpers, biting down on his fist.

“These are cute.” You take note of his meaty thighs, how they’ve only gotten bigger, a comfier place to sit. The stretch marks don’t go unnoticed, streaking purple and pink along the milky flesh of his inner thighs like faded brushstrokes.

“Mmmph.” He blinks at you, pouty, lashes wet with impatient tears.

“Yeah, mmmph, I know, baby, be patient.” You’re a big, fat hypocrite.

His scent is stronger down here, clean and soapy, but the tang of sweat prospers, and the underlying smell of him. The smell of his pillow, the smell of his few-days old clothes, the smell of his towel after he works out.

A few more kisses here and there, using the flat of your tongue to lave over strips of his sinewy skin, leaving him spit-slicked and breathless and flushed. You hoist his other leg over your shoulder, he’s heavy, but you’re horny and it’s given you a sudden burst of vitality.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, gripping the top of the couch, one arm over his face as you lick up the seam of his balls, mouth latching to the swollen underside, where they feel heaviest.

Curly’s cock leaks into your hair, the weight brings it down to rest on your face, tip pressed into your hairline, dripping down the bridge of your nose like sweat while you make a mess of his balls. Stuffing them into your mouth one at a time, using your hand to give the lonelier one a squeeze when your lips are kissing up on another.

The kiss to his perineum is enough to make him moan. Curly knows what’s coming. You go lower, nose nestled into his balls, breathing him while your hands spread his ass cheeks apart to get to the spot you love most.

Curly’s hole is darker than the rest of him, not quite pink like his cock, ruddier. He’s tight and he smells good. So good. You’ve never minded the hair, you think it’s pretty cute. Curtains match the drapes.

Affectionately, you kiss his puffy rim, and it throbs.

He lets out a groan that is half mortified and half ready-to-blow-his-load.

“Sure,” Curly says, voice breaking as you circle his hole with the tip of your tongue. He tastes like him, musky and sweet and coppery. Curly is home and your tongue is in his ass where it belongs, wriggling its way past his pulsing rim, hopefully all the way up into his heart.

Your thumb and middle finger stretch to meet around the girth of his cock, stroking him slowly as you work open his asshole, tongue pushing back in when he pushes you out. Once you deem him wet enough, you push a single finger knuckle-deep and he cries out, hips bucking up off the couch.

Much to his dismay, which he shows in the form of a pained whimper, your hand leaves his cock to splay over his stomach and hold him down to the best of your abilities. “You have to stay still, honey.”

You feed a second finger into him, his hole squelching as you curl them inside of him. Curly clenches tight enough to cut off your blood circulation, sucking you back in when you ultimately pull them out with a lewd noise. He opens his mouth on instinct, pupils so blown out his light eyes seem dark, you push your fingers down his throat and he sucks.

“You’re so cute,” you mumble, watching him intently, he’s like a pin-up model of some sort. An X-rated action figure. “Taste good?”

“Not really,” Curly says. He’s so honest it makes you laugh. He shuffles back to rest his head on the arm of the couch, cock bobbing, still leaking like nobody’s business, leaving little droplets of wet in its wake.

It’s ready to burst, but you’re not done with him yet. You haven’t had your fill. When you spend half your time with your head between his thighs, you miss out on all the faces he pulls. So you spit on your tits to get them wet, his cock is slick enough, nothing should chafe when you squeeze his cock between them.

“Christ,” Curly grits out, brows knitting together, the second coming and he hasn’t even had his first.

“You wanna cum like this?” You ask, kneading your tits on either side of his cock, each time the tip pops up past your cleavage, it bumps your chin and leaves it slick.

“No…” He shakes his head, curls bouncing, sticking to his forehead, the hair near his nose is curlier with the added sweat. “Inside.”

“I can do that for you, babe.” You smile at him, acting like that wasn’t your plan in the first place, like you haven’t been dying for a warm creampie since he landed back on earth. You give the fat head of his dick one sloppy kiss, making sure to tongue his slit before you clamber on top of him.

It should be an easy task to get him inside, you’ve been wet for the last twenty-four hours, your pussy is throbbing like it’s got a heartbeat. Slick dries on your inner thighs and your clit is buzzing, a rush of arousal passes over you like a cold wave when you lift your hips to guide his dick into you.

Oh. Wow. That’s a stretch.

In theory, you know big Curly’s dick is. It’s a fucking horsecock, and you have eyes bigger than your stomach. You always overestimate yourself. You think you’re gonna be just fine, then his fat tip breaches your little hole, no matter how wet, and you lose it, scrambling to grasp his shoulders as your body is racked with shivers.

Curly’s kind enough to steady you, big hands finding purchase on your hips. His needy noises get through to you, and you push on, sliding down and taking him to the hilt. His dick curves upwards into your cervix, rubbing the fleshy opening as you adjust to his dick after four whole months of nothing worthwhile.

He’s so big. You’re so wet, slippery pussy slicking up his cock, and making things easier for the both of you.

“I love you.” Curly shudders, looking right into your eyes like he’s afraid to blink and miss a single thing.

“I love you too,” you tell him, eyes on his tits.

He’s so deep, feet planted on the couch as he fucks into you, unable to help himself. You get it. You’re tight, warm, and wet. Better than his fist. Your pussy is noisy, squelching each time you bottom you, grinding your clit into his pelvis, feeling his cock twitch each time you tighten around him. The plap of his balls hitting your ass when enough momentum is built up.

Curly’s helpful, when he sees you tense up, throwing your head back and rolling your hips over and over, you want him deeper and deeper, he wets his fingers with your slick and rubs figure eights into your clit.

It’s just enough to make your toes curl—Oh, who are you kidding? You near blackout when you cum, moaning so loud you scare yourself. You see black. Like someone’s drawn the curtains in your mind, ending the show. Your nails dig into his skin, but he’s always put up with that like a champ.

“Holy fuck.” Shaking still, you blink to clear your vision, you’ve wet his navel and his tummy and the couch might be ruined. You don’t even remember when he came inside you. What a shame. Feels good though, still warm. Sighing, you lay against his chest, Curly’s soft cock slips out of your hole, resting on his thigh. “Welcome home, Captain.”

#curly mouthwashing smut #curly smut #captain curly x reader #captain curly smut #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing x you #mouthwashing smut #curly x reader #mouthwashing curly x reader

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demonic0angel · 2 months ago

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:33 Can. Can... Cough. DCXDP PROMPT

Dan is the crowned Ghost King, Dani and Danny are like his kids and Jazz his sister ofcourse. Dan tries to be peaceful and shit for his siblingskids' sake but the GIW has other plans and kidnaps/Ambushes the two and boom. Chaos. Dan loosing his shit and the JL having to be involved (I wanna see a rare pair for Dan <33)

-A.E. 👻

Ps. I'm drawing an animation for this prompt <33

Pps/pass(??). I'm still drawing the cutting Wit ship, never forgot that <33

Part 2

Superman froze.

There was a monster in the middle of the room. It had a humanoid shape, but its general form was incomprehensible, unable to be understood even by Superman. Something white resembling clothes covered its body, but it was stained crimson. Rivers of blood dripped onto the floor in puddles.

The creature was clutching at two smaller beings, who were desperately clawing at its back and cape, whimpering. The creature made noises alongside them, a strange sort of wheezy noise.

Superman looked around at the torn apart corpses on the floor. Limbs laid askew and organs were separated from bodies. Everything smelled like blood and fear.

The creature made another soft sound and Superman finally realized what it was doing.

It was crying.

“… excuse me?” Superman asked, because he wanted to know everything, “are you alright?”

“… disgust me,” the creature mumbled.

“I’m sorry?”

The being turned and its glowing red eyes struck Superman and froze him in his place in fear. The color was unlike anything he had ever seen, like fire and death and glowing ashes from complete and utter annihilation. The creature was crying brightly colored, acidic tears that trailed down a green face, with each droplet rolling down its cheek and burning holes onto the ground.

“You humans disgust me!” The creature roared, flashing sharp fangs that could break through bone. “I held myself back! I tried to be a good person! A better person! I tried so hard to make good decisions and be a good king and a good family! And this is how you repay me?! By hurting the ones I love?!”

Superman’s gaze involuntarily darted downwards, to the two other beings. They whimpered, and Superman suddenly realized that they were this creature’s family. They were sluggishly bleeding and they were also crying softly, the same tears flowing down their faces as they sobbed.

Superman’s heart simultaneously broke in two and dropped to his feet from fear as the creature snarled.

“I was too kind. I should’ve eradicated all of your worlds! Every single one of you will die for hurting them!”

Superman floated an inch back and the creature bristled like it was an offense, wispy hair flaring like a roaring flame before it prepared itself to lunge forward, and just as Superman readied himself to fight, a woman stepped in front of him and a whip immediately wrapped itself around the creature’s throat, holding him still.

“Danny! Calm yourself! We’re fine!” The woman said, and Superman immediately snapped back to attention.

“What do you need for me to do?” He asked, and the woman, who was bravely defending herself against the creature, waved a hand for him to leave.

Superman blinked. And then he stayed, watching. The creature calmed, still crying, but now it— he just looked sad, brows furrowing as he then reached for the woman with another sob, not dissimilar to the children in his lap, “Jazz!”

The woman stepped forward, dropping the whip without a second thought, and enveloped him in a hug. “Shhhh,” she said. “You did so well. You protected the kids. You did well.”

She calmed the creature with a few more words, stroking the creature’s hair, and after a few long moments, where Superman started to feel like a fifth wheel, there was a bright flash, and the creature that once had white fiery hair and luminescent skin, turned into a normal man with pale skin and long, raven locks.

Superman’s eyes widened. The woman finally turned back to address him and said, “I’m sorry, can you take Dan, please? I’ll take Danny and Ellie.”

Superman nodded, drifting down to carefully handle the now unconscious man. He was surprisingly light, despite his bulky frame, and he was also undoubtedly beautiful. His eyes were closed, but he had a shadow of fear over his face. Superman gingerly held him close, a mixture of worried for the man, afraid of him, and also very confused at the entire situation. The man stirred, causing Superman to tense, but then he only buried his head into Superman’s shoulder.

A shiver ran down Superman’s spine. He felt irrationally conflicted within himself with how close the man was to tearing his throat out.

“I’m sorry, but can you please explain to me what happened? Who are these people? What is this place? What happened, and who is this person? Who are you?”

The woman nodded, picking up the two children. One of them tucked his head into her shoulder, but the other hissed at Superman, bright blue eyes flashing as she bared tiny little fangs. Oddly enough, Superman felt extremely endeared.

“I’ll tell you everything. Just take us out of here first.”

Superman nodded, and off they went.

(Side note: I have a hc that the name ‘Danny’ is very important to Dan and Dani, since it is a name that they chose for themselves. However, since Danny is considered more important, they ‘surrendered’ the name to him, but only Jazz really knows how much they like being called “Danny,” which is why she uses it to calm the two down or address them, and then uses “Dan” and “Ellie” anytime else.)

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winxanity-ii · 4 months ago

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BIG FAT MEANY

ship: stepbro!megumi x fem!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (p in v, fingering, dub-con); overbearing/possessive brother (aged up: reader and megumi are in early 20s) word count: 4.5k (lololo forgive me y'all got a bit carried away with the storybuilding 💀 promise this won't happen all the time jajaja ) A/N: Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that i'm reposting this from my alt account, lulu-4-u in case you've seen this posted before... ★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You weren't a hateful person. Not at all.

In fact, you were practically a ball of sunshine—inside and out.

You loved everything.

It was the simple things in life that made your heart flutter: the moon on a clear night, the smell of fresh rain, lazy afternoons spent with your friends from college, and, of course, your family.

Especially the love between your mom and stepdad, Toji.

He came into you and your mom's life at a time when things were pretty dark—your dad had been having an affair with his secretary, and your mom was left heartbroken. But then, when you were fifteen, Toji walked into the picture, and everything changed for the better.

Out of all the things you cherished, though, there was one thing—one person—you absolutely hated.

Your stepbrother, Fushiguro Megumi.

You hated how mean he was to you.

How he always managed to push your buttons.

How he treated you like a child, even though you were only a year younger than him.

And what you hated the most?

How pushy he got when things didn't go his way.

"Megumi, I said stop!" you whined, pushing at his annoyingly close chest.

Your mind could only race, trying to piece together exactly how you ended up in this predicament.

The night had started simply enough. It was a Friday—date night for your mom and Toji, which meant the house was practically dead.

Normally, you would've just stayed at your dorm, but tonight was different. Your dormmates had been all over you about some party happening on campus, trying to drag you along, but you weren't in the mood.

You'd barely been able to dodge their constant nagging, so instead of getting sucked into something you didn’t want to do, you decided to come home.

A weekend in your room sounded a lot better than getting roped into a night of drinking and chaos.

But instead of holing up and rotting away in your room, Megumi had caught you on your way upstairs. He'd asked—well, more like insisted—if you wanted to watch a movie with him.

It had been a little out of the ordinary, but you shrugged and went along with it, thinking it'd be a decent way to pass the time. And for a while, it had been fine. You both settled on the couch, watching the newest Scream movie.

Until now.

"Megumi, what's your problem? It's just Yuji..." you finally managed, voice small as you sat up properly on the couch, trying to put some distance between the two of you.

"My problem?" he repeated, scoffing like you'd just said something ridiculous. "My problem is you acting like you don't know what’s going on. That picture—he sent it to you for a reason. But you're sitting here like it’s no big deal."

Your brow furrowed, hurt blooming in your chest at what he was insinuating.

You hated it when Megumi got like this—sharp-tongued, confrontational, like everything you did somehow annoyed him.

And this time? It was all over a damn picture...

It wasn't even a big deal, honestly.

You and Yuji were just chatting as always when among the messages he sent a picture of himself fresh out of soccer practice.

You could vividly recall the boyish grin plastered across his face, eyes bright with his usual warmth.

But it wasn't just the smile that caught your attention.

His shirt, the one you knew had probably been soaked with sweat from practice, was pulled halfway up, wiping at his forehead. It casually exposed the lean muscles of his abdomen, glistening faintly from practice.

He hadn't done it on purpose—he probably didn't even think twice about sending it knowing him—but the way his body looked in the picture was enough to make your face burn upon seeing it.

But apparently, what wasn't a big deal to you, was to Megumi...

"Is he your boyfriend or something?" he demanded, glaring down at you. "Yuji, I mean. Is that why you're all flustered? Because he sent you some half-naked picture and now you’re freaking out like some lovesick idiot?"

"What are we, twelve?" you scoffed, crossing your arms and turning your body away from him, your tone sharp. "For your information, it's none of your business what Yuji is to me. We're in college, Megumi. I don't owe you any explanations."

You could feel the heat rise to your face again, but this time it wasn't just from the embarrassment. It was the fact that he felt like he had any right to badger you about this.

He wasn't your parent, your guardian—hell, he wasn't even a friend half the time with the way he acted.

"Why do you even care?" you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to him. "You're always like this. Sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

You didn't see the way his jaw clenched or how his gaze sharpened at your words. You were too focused on staring at the wall, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest.

You stood up abruptly, ready to head back to your room, away from his snappy attitude.

But just as you turned, a large hand wrapped around your wrist, halting your steps.

You froze, looking over your shoulder to see Megumi. He was staring up at you through his dark hair, head tilted slightly, a burning look in his eyes that made your heart race in a way you didn't like. His grip was firm but not painful—just enough to keep you there.

"Megumi, let go," you huffed, your lips pouting as your eyebrows furrowed in frustration. You gave a light tug on your arm, but his hand didn't budge.

He didn't say anything, just kept staring at you, his expression unreadable. That silence—his stubborn, infuriating silence—only made your frustration build.

Why did he have to be like this?

"I said let go!" you repeated, yanking on your arm harder this time, but his grip tightened. You felt a hot flash of anger rise in your chest.

"If you don't—" you started, your voice trembling with frustration, "I'm gonna tell Mom and Toji when they get home."

His eyes flickered for a second, and just as the words left your mouth, he scoffed, standing up in one smooth motion, his form towering over yours.

You could feel the heat of him, the intensity of his presence making you instinctively take a small step back.

"What?" he sneered, his voice low and mocking. "You're gonna tell them that you're whoring around?"

You gasped, your eyes going wide in shock, heart slamming in your chest. "What the hell, Megumi? Why would you—?" you started, but the words barely made it past your lips before he cut you off, stepping even closer, his voice quick and biting.

Megumi stepped even closer, his body towering over yours as he stared down at you through his dark lashes, his voice dropping into something almost mocking.

"Or are you gonna run to Toji?" he taunted, his lips curling into a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. "I bet you'd like that, huh? Telling him how mean I'm being to you... like some helpless little girl."

Your breath hitched, your back pressing against the wall as he closed the space between you, his presence overwhelming.

You felt cornered, heat rising to your cheeks in a way you couldn’t control. His words, the way he looked at you—it all left you speechless.

You hated that he had this effect on you, hated the way he made your pulse race, not just from anger but something deeper, something you couldn't quite place.

Megumi leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Or maybe you like it when I'm mean to you. Is that it? You're always whining, but you never tell them, do you? Why's that?"

You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself, your eyes darting off to the side to avoid the intensity of his gaze. "B-because," you stammered, voice barely above a whisper, your cheeks still burning hot.

"Because what?"

You swallowed hard, finally meeting his eyes, though the way he was looking down at you made your heart pound even harder. "Because… you're my big brother..."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt silly for even uttering them. You expected him to laugh, to scoff at you like he always did, but instead, his expression didn't change. If anything, something darker flickered in his eyes as he leaned even closer, his breath hot against your skin.

"Is that what you tell yourself?" he asked quietly, his voice low and almost dangerous. "That it's just because I'm your big brother?" He tilted his head slightly, still staring down at you, his eyes narrowing just a bit. "You sure that's it?"

You could feel the heat rushing to your face again, heart pounding painfully in your chest as you struggled to find words, any words, to push him away.

Your mind raced, and though you wanted to focus on the anger bubbling up, a different thought crept in, unwanted but undeniable.

Megumi was attractive.

Like, really, really attractive.

You hated to admit it, but standing there, inches from him, it was impossible to ignore. He towered over you, standing at least six feet tall, his broad shoulders filling out the plain black t-shirt he wore.

You could see the faint outline of his muscles beneath the fabric, the way his chest rose and fell with every breath, the strong line of his jaw clenched in irritation.

His dark hair fell over his forehead in that effortless way it always did, messy but somehow perfect, framing his sharp, intense features.

And those eyes—Gods, those eyes.

Even though they were currently glaring down at you with frustration, you couldn't deny the pull they had. Dark, stormy, and filled with an intensity that made it hard to hold his gaze for long.

They were the kind of eyes that could make anyone feel small, vulnerable, and you hated how they always managed to affect you.

Your breath hitched as you let yourself take him in for just a moment too long, your body betraying you with a sharp jolt of attraction. But no—no.

You weren't going to go there.

This was Megumi, your stepbrother, and as good as he looked, he was being a complete asshole right now.

You shook your head quickly, trying to rid yourself of the thought. Stop it. Stop thinking like that.

Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath and straightened up, attempting to put on your most serious face, even though your heart was still hammering in your chest.

"Look, 'Gumi," you began, your voice sounding steadier than you felt, using the nickname you had given him years ago. It rolled off your tongue easily, a little too familiar for the situation at hand, but you needed something to ground yourself. "I'm not sure what’s wrong. And I'm sorry if I did anything to make you upset, but you have got to stop this..."

You trailed off, knowing full well what the 'this' was. And deep down, Megumi knew too.

It wasn't just about Yuji, or any other guy, really. It was him.

It was how he acted—how he always got so weirdly possessive, so jealous, whenever another guy so much as talked to you.

You didn't even have to be interested in them; the mere mention of someone else was enough to set him off.

You'd seen it countless times. The sharp glares, the biting comments, the way his jaw would tighten at the mention of a boy's name.

It was always the same, this constant undercurrent of envy and jealousy that never made sense, and it wasn't just a protective brother thing.

No, it was something else.

Something darker.

Something you weren't ready to acknowledge.

Megumi's jaw clenched, and for a second, you thought he was going to say something or maybe even do something.

You braced yourself, heart racing with both frustration and something you didn't want to name.

But instead, he let go of your wrist, taking a step back.

"Fine…" he muttered, his voice low and almost too calm. "You're right, and I'm sorry."

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. Megumi? Apologizing?

He never apologized to you, not like this. Usually, he'd just brush you off, act like whatever happened didn't matter or somehow turn it back on you. But now, here he was, actually acknowledging his behavior.

It felt strange, and you weren't quite sure how to respond.

"Uh, well, um, thank you…" you mumbled, still processing.

It didn't feel real, this sudden shift. But before you could dwell on it for too long, you turned to leave again, ready to retreat to the safety of your room where you could put distance between yourself and this confusing experience.

But just as you began to walk away, you felt it again—his hand, firm around your wrist.

He wasn't letting go.

"Where's my apology?" he asked, his tone unsettlingly calm.

"Huh?" you responded, confused by the sudden demand. Your brain barely had time to catch up with the words before Megumi yanked you forward, pulling you off balance.

You stumbled, instinctively putting your hands up to steady yourself, but you ended up falling into his chest instead. "Oof!"

Your hands pressed against the solid warmth of him, trying to create some space, but Megumi's arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

The heat from his body seeped into yours, making it impossible to ignore how solid and overwhelming he felt against you.

"Megumi—" you started, breathless, but the rest of your sentence was cut off as he brought his lips close to your ear, his voice soft and commanding.

"Shush…" he murmured, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Let's just finish the movie."

With that, he pulled you back down onto the couch next to him, his arm still wrapped around your waist, keeping you tethered to his side. You were practically sitting on his lap, his arm still holding you close, and your mind was spinning, trying to wrap itself around what was happening.

The movie played in the background, but you couldn't focus on anything except the heavy tension in the room and the warmth of his body pressing against yours.

As you tried to shift away, to put some space between you, Megumi's voice pierced through the room, low and deliberate. "You know," he began, his hand dropping lower, his fingers brushing the inner corner of your thigh. "I just realized something… we never got to bond." He emphasized the word by gripping your thigh, his touch firm and intentional.

Your breath hitched at the contact, and your mind blanked for a second, overwhelmed by how sudden and intense his presence felt. "I-I mean, we still can," you stuttered, trying to defuse the situation, trying to keep this from going wherever it was heading.

But the way Megumi's face pulled into a wicked smirk, the sharp gleam in his eyes, made your stomach drop. He leaned in closer, licking his lips as he watched your reaction, his grip tightening slightly on your leg.

The air around you felt thick, it was as if everything had narrowed down to just this—his gaze, his hands on you, the heat of his body so close to yours.

Before you could even think of moving again, Megumi's hand suddenly gripped your jaw, his fingers firm against your skin as he turned your face toward him.

His touch was possessive, controlling, and it sent a wave of something through you—part fear, part something darker that you didn't want to name.

"C'mon, look at me," he said, his voice a low murmur as he scooted even closer, towering over you now. He tilted your head back slightly, forcing you to meet his eyes, and even if you wanted to pull away, you couldn't.

His grip was too strong, too sure.

Megumi watched your reaction closely, his smirk growing as he tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "What's wrong? You don't wanna play with your big brother?" The way he said it, his voice dripping with a mock sweetness, sent shivers down your spine, and your heart pounded painfully in your chest.

"G-Gumi, the movie…" you stammered, trying to deflect, to push him away with your words, but it was no use.

You knew nothing good was going to come from this.

He just chuckled softly, his fingers gripping your jaw a little tighter as he leaned even closer, his breath hot against your skin. "Forget the movie," he muttered, his voice taking on that dangerous edge again.

Before you could react, Megumi grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them to your side with one hand.

You were startled by how effortlessly he did it—his arms didn't even bulge, as if it was nothing for him to hold you down like this. Your heart raced even faster, panic starting to creep in as you realized how strong he really was.

You tried to squirm, to pull away, but Megumi didn't budge. His grip on you was firm, almost casual, like he was barely putting in any effort to keep you trapped against him.

Megumi tutted at you, a soft noise that somehow felt condescending, as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "The movie's still there, silly," he hummed, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

You could feel him nosing along the contours of your neck, his presence overwhelming every one of your senses.

"Let's just play a game until the commercials are over, yeah?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing, as if this were all some harmless joke to him.

"A-A game?" you stuttered, your mind struggling to keep up with what was happening. Your body felt frozen in place, your instincts screaming at you to move, to get away, but the grip he had on your wrists, the way he held you down so effortlessly, made it impossible.

"Yeah…" he whispered, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. "Let's play… who can last the longest."

The words didn't even fully register before you felt the sudden force of him pushing you back against the sofa.

An involuntary "oomph" escaped your lips as your back hit the cushions, and your vision blurred for a second as you stared up at the ceiling, heart pounding in your ears.

Before you could gather your thoughts, Megumi was hovering above you, his body blocking out everything else. His dark eyes raked over your face, taking in every flicker of emotion you couldn't hide, every sign of the fear and confusion coursing through you.

He didn't move, not yet, but the weight of his gaze pinned you in place as effectively as his body did.

There was something in his expression—an intensity that made your chest tighten, made it hard to breathe, and you couldn't help but feel like you were already losing whatever game this was.

Megumi let out a deep chuckle, the sound reverberating in your chest, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't worry," he murmured, his tongue flicking out to lick the curve of your ear, making you shiver. "I'll go easy on you… for now."

"Megumi—" you started, your cry cut off as his hand cupped your jaw, and he slammed his lips onto yours, his movements forceful and possessive.

Heat shot through your body, shivers running down your spine as his tongue invaded your mouth like a man starving. It was overwhelming, the way he kissed you—demanding, fierce, leaving no room for resistance.

You whimpered against his mouth, the noise muffled by the way his lips devoured yours. His hands wandered along your body, gripping, grabbing, squeezing any part of you he could find.

The pressure of his touch was firm, almost bruising, and with every place his hands explored, your body responded with an involuntary jolt of heat.

Your breath hitched as he hooked his hands under your legs, pulling them up and around his waist, his hips jolting forward into yours. The movement sent a rush of sensation through you.

You managed to tear your lips from his, gasping for air as your chest heaved. "M-Megumi, stop…" you whined, your voice trembling, your head falling back as you tried to make sense of what was happening, what he was doing to you.

He didn't stop. Instead, he groaned low in his throat, his lips finding your neck. He licked and bit along the sensitive skin there, the rough scrape of his teeth making you shiver even as you tried to push the sensation away.

Your mind was at war with itself—one part of you frothing, screaming, fight him, get him away, the panic clawing at your chest.

But the other side—the darker part, the one that you didn’t want to admit was there—was keening, practically begging for more of his attention, for more of this twisted game.

And Megumi, as if sensing the battle raging inside of you, just smiled against your skin, biting down a little harder, leaving a mark you knew wouldn't fade anytime soon.

Megumi pulled back slightly, making a deliberate show of licking his lips as he panted above you, his eyes dark and focused. "C'mon, lil sis," he murmured, rocking his hips into yours in a slow, rough rhythm that made your breath catch in your throat. "The game can't start until you're ready."

Your body betrayed you as you watched him put a hand between your bodies, his fingers easily slipping into the confines of your sleeping shorts. "Ohhh, looks like you really wanna play, huh?" he taunted, his voice laced with smugness as his fingers rubbed up and down your wet slit.

A wave of shame washed over you, your thighs twitching with the instinct to close, to shut them and stop what was happening, but his frame kept them wide open.

You couldn't escape the heat pooling low in your stomach, no matter how hard you tried to fight it. A choked whine left your mouth, your back arching involuntarily when he slipped a finger inside.

Megumi let out a groan, low and rumbling, as if he was savoring the sensation. "Damn…" he muttered under his breath, cursing softly as he felt your walls constrict around his finger. His thumb brushed over your clit, making your whole body jerk, and when he added a second finger, the fight in you began to crumble.

His fingers were relentless, rubbing and probing with a skill that left you breathless. Your legs, which had tried to resist, opened wider for him, your body moving of its own accord.

Megumi hummed in approval, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he muttered, "Good girl." The words sent a rush of conflicting emotions through you—humiliation, desire, confusion—but you couldn't stop the way your body responded to him.

And before you knew it, you came. Babbled whimpers fell from your lips as the coil within you snapped, your body shaking with the force of it.

By the time you came down from the high, Megumi had already pulled back, sitting on his haunches as he dropped your legs.

You curled your legs up to your body, watching as he began to untie his drawstring sweats, his eyes still locked on you with that same wicked smirk.

You looked away just as you caught a glimpse of the dark trail of hair peeking out from his waistband, heart pounding in your chest.

At this point, you had accepted what was about to happen, and your mind raced as you braced yourself.

Megumi crawled back over you, his hands tugging at your shorts, and you barely registered the feeling as he discarded them over his shoulder. One of your legs was pulled back around his waist, the heat of his skin pressing against yours.

His body hovered over yours, and you felt him nudge your entrance with the tip of his dick, sliding it up and down along your slit.

A shiver ran through you as you struggled to keep your thoughts clear, but it was impossible under the weight of him, both physically and mentally.

"Fuck," he groaned to himself, eyes locked on where your bodies were beginning to connect.

Your breathing grew shallow, your heart racing uncontrollably, knowing that whatever came next, there was no turning back.

Megumi filled you in one swift movement, stealing your breath away. You cried out, the sound a mix of pleasure and pain echoing through the room. His groan was long and guttural, reverberating in the space between you.

Megumi's rhythm was steady, each thrust sending a jolt of shock of pleasure through your body.

It felt surreal—part of you couldn't believe you were letting this happen, but the undeniable pleasure clouded every coherent thought.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, the intensity of it all overwhelming your senses.

"That's right," Megumi grunted, his breath hot against your ear. "Take all of me."

You couldn't form words, your mind spinning, too overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

Instead, all you could do was moan and whimper, your body moving with his, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. His hand snaked up to your throat, gripping lightly as he maintained a relentless pace.

"You like that, don't you? You like the way big brother fucks you?" he growled, his voice harsh and demanding, his thrusts becoming even more intense.

Your mind reeled, unable to speak, only nodding frantically in response as the pleasure built inside you. You could feel the pressure mounting, an orgasm threatening to wash over you as your body tensed beneath him.

Megumi seemed to notice, his hands hiking your legs up higher, deepening the angle, each movement more brutal and precise than the last.

You lay there, body writhing beneath his as he fucked you like a ragdoll, and a dark part of you couldn't help but thrill in the way he took control. His voice filled your ear with praise, breathless murmurs of "you're doing so good for me," and other words that barely registered through the haze, as if he were drunk off the feeling of you clamped around him.

Soon, his tempo shifted, becoming erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as his low moans became uncontrollable.

The intensity built until you felt warmth spreading inside you, the realization hitting you that he was coming, his release flooding your senses.

The throbbing between you two blurred together, until yours faded, and you could still feel him twitching, even as everything else calmed.

Eventually, he slowed, both of you panting, the room thick with the aftermath. You winced when he finally pulled out, a shiver running through you as you felt the hot liquid seeping out.

Megumi stood to grab cleaning supplies, gently wiping you off, his touch softer now, though still lingering in the tension of what had just occurred.

And as you lay there, watching him, all you could think was, What the fuck just happened?

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pixelscutz · 2 months ago

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random jjk headcannons ₊˚✩

nanami - huge fan of doja cat

i’m not even sure why, but for some reason, the lyrics of her songs always turn him on. i mean come on? he can definitely relate to all of her lyrics,, wait actually no that sounds wrong. I hope yk what i mean.

itadori - loves being babied

although he wants to be a tough and protective guy in public, trust me, when you two are alone, he loves to lay in between your thighs and hear you sing sweet words to him. now that is the closest thing he has towards heaven.

megumi - secretly has a sweet tooth

“hell no, i’m not eating that sugary shit, do you think i’m trying to speedrun diabetes?”

and thennn you’ll find him secretly eating the leftover cake on his bed at 3am.

nobera- used to believe in ghost stories

tbh, she still believes in some of the ghost stories, i mean when she first found out about jeff the killer and momo she fell down a rabbit hole of worries and fears on what she would do if they randomly appeared one day. although she now knows they don’t exist, she can’t help but always take extra precautions

sukuna - loves being praised like he’s a toddler

I mean, we already think this guy’s ego is pretty big, but come on? “oh sukuna, you cleaned the kitchen? thank you love, you did such a good job!” he would be rolling his eyes, but secretly he’s jumping and screaming with joy

gojo - loves ariana grande & sabrina carpeter

gojo def understands how to treat a women,, i mean have you seen ari’s and sabrina’s lyrics? they teach him a lot about how to treat a woman, - heck he even studies them.

itadori + nobera - love to troll kids on roblox

i mean, although they do save people from monsters and supernaturals everyday,, beefing with a couple of kids online doesn’t do any harm..

megumi - huge fnaf kid

i know i can not be the only one who believes in this, i mean, the entire lore fanctinates him. if you ask him what fnaf is about, he will give you a deep breakdown from start to finish

megumi + gojo - thinks of gojo as a father figure but will never admit it

once megumi called gojo dad,, yeah and that’s when gojo found out what megumi thinks of him and will always tease him abt it

sukuna - has a extensive skincare and hair routine

i mean come on? have you ever wondered how his skin is always gleaming, and his hair is so silky? it’s obious this man loves to take care of himself but he will NEVER admit it

megumi + itadori - they secretly watch romance animes together

this is the definition of bromance, and they always love gushing over who’s their favorite ship, the annoying characters.. etc etc. so far,, fruit basket is their favorite !

part two soon ? :>

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sturnsdarling · 4 months ago

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teenage dirtbags, introduction

Skater!Matt needs help with his essay, and Overachiever!reader is the smartest girl on campus

vibe check: enemies(?) to lovers au, childhood acquaintances, no warnings this is just a blurb to set up the vibes.

1k words

A/N: This is just the intro to what I plan on being at least a five part series. I don't ship blair and dan but lowkey this is them (i've fallen down an edit rabbit hole and now i kinda ship them lol)

part one, part two , part three

love and cigs, merc

You and Matt had never really liked each other, you were completely different people, and despite going through every grade together, and somehow ending up at the same college, you definitely wouldn't classify yourself as friends, or even acquaintances. Honestly, you couldn't stand him, with his boyish charm, eye watering smile and breezy attitude, he was insufferable.

Matt was interesting, to say the least. You never saw him without his head phones in and feet planted firmly on his skateboard. His wardrobe seemed to consist solely of dirty band tees, cargos that didn't fit him and beat up sneakers. He was the furthest thing from a scholar, his idea of an extra curricular activity being how many screws he could loosen in the Deans office before the man had a brain haemorrhage over his chair or desk falling apart every other day. Every grade he got was just above average, 'consistently uninspiring', as he called it, and despite the fact that he was actually quite smart, he never wanted to be anything other than exactly that, average.

You on the other hand, we're almost the exact opposite. Your grades were the highest in the entire college, the best they'd seen in years, actually. You ran multiple clubs, were the president of not one, but two societies; philosophy and classic literature; and tutored everyone from under to postgrads. You were clean cut and classic, pleated skirts with knee high socks and a collared shirt, tucked under a vintage sweater was your personal uniform; you looked as smart as you were. You were every schools dream, painfully smart and ridiculously driven, everyones favourite over achiever. From the bows in your hair, to the Plato or Dostoyevski tucked in your arms, all the way down to your vintage platform loafers, you were extraordinary.

The day it all started,

Your books were tucked neatly in size order against your chest, hair tucked behind your ears and knee socks tight against the bottom of your thighs as you headed to your second lecture of the day. The halls of the literature building were as busy as you'd expect it to be on a Wednesday, filled with people all going about their days and trying to sound as smart as possible in front of their new pretentious friends.

The sound of skateboard wheels against the brown linoleum echoed behind you, followed by the huffs and puffs of said pretentious people.

Matt rode through the halls, swerving through the students with ease as he tried to catch up with you, eyes trained on the way your hips moved in your pleated skirt. He called your name, and the sound of his voice made your eyes roll to the back of your head, so you kept walking.

Matt picked up his speed, pushing off with his leg to reach you. he called your name again, this time as he pulled up next to you, kicking his board up and holding it in his hand, jogging slightly to walk shoulder to shoulder with you.

"you walk way too fast" Matt said, only slightly breathless.

"people tend to do that when they have somewhere to be" you said, attitude thick in your voice as you kept your eyes trained on your destination.

Matt was looking at you, grinning at your consistency in hating him.

"where ya headed?" He said, stepping in front of you with a light jog, walking backwards and finally gaining your eye contact.

You huffed, a faux smile forming on your face in response to his cheesy grin.

"what do you want, Matt" you said, continuing your pace and slightly impressed at Matts ability to walk backwards without bumping into anyone.

"how do you know I want something?" Matt shrugged, squinting his eyes at you in bashful accusation.

"because we haven't had a conversation in... three years? and you look like you want something" You stopped walking, tilting your head to the side, "so what is it?" you looked him up and down quickly.

Matt pressed his tongue to his teeth with a smile, stopping in front of you, "I need your head"

Your face screwed up instantly, "I beg your pardon?" you scoffed.

Matt chuckled, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck with his palm, "not like that, I mean, I need your brain"

You cocked your eyes to the side, waiting for him to say words that actually made sense, "I'm gonna need a bit more clarity than that, Matt"

"I need your help with an essay" Matt said, biting his plump lip slightly with pleading eyes.

"no" you shook your head with a scoff, stepping out from his figure blocking your path and continuing your stride down the hall.

"come on, y/l/n, please?" He jogged after you, "I'm desperate", gently pressing his shoulder against yours.

"why would I ever help you?" you scoffed, looking straight ahead and ignoring the sentiment of him still calling you by your last name after all these years.

"cause I'm desperate" Matt was looking at your profile, repeating his earlier claim, "and we're friends"

you scoffed again, "we are not friends, Matt" you said, rolling your eyes.

Matt searched his brain for an example of your friendship but came up blank, "okay, fine, we're not friends" he grinned, "but we've known each other forever and.... it's nice to help people" it was the only thing he could think of.

You ignored him, shaking your head with an uncontrollable smile attempting to form on your face at his persistence. Matt continued to walk with you, begging, pleading and saying your last name over and over again like an irritating child, telling you that you're the smartest person he knows, and that he'll fail without your help.

"whats the essay on" you rolled your eyes, giving in and looking to him.

"existentialism" Matt said, his ears perking up at your interest.

You huffed, stopping once more. People continued to rush past you and Matt as you stood face to face in the centre of the hall.

"if I help you, you'll leave me alone?" You questioned.

"absolutely" Matt nodded

you rolled your tongue over your teeth, deadpanning at Matt.

"fine" you said, bluntly.

"yes!" Matt cheesed, "you are an angel sent from heaven, thank you"

"come to my dorm tonight, seven o'clock and we'll get started" blatantly ignoring his compliment.

"I'll be there" Matt said, placing his board on the floor.

"it's the franklin building, room three, if you cant find it then i'l-" The sound of Matts wheels rolling away cut you off.

"i'll just follow the smell of vanilla and academic overachievement, I'll find you" Matt said from over his shoulder, skating away from you down the hall.

You rolled your eyes as you watched him weave in and out of students, dropping out of sight as he rode his board down the flight of stairs to the exit.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour

#©sturnsdarling #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fluff #Spotify

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tinydefector · 10 months ago

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Human's effects

More a silly little thing that I had to write out.

Warnings: talks about sex, xenophilia, kinks

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

Human Effects 2 - characters

Request are open

____

There were a lot of things that fascinated the cybertronians over humans. Their size, body types, skin tones and those soft they are.

So many of them become so fascinated over the fact that such small and fragile creatures don't have plating to protect themselves but only wear soft fabrics.

And it slowly leads a lot of Cybertronians to realising they were Xenophiles.

A list of kinks and fetishes cybertronians discovered from it.

-size kink

-skin fetish

- hair pulling

- silk and ribbon play

- cum inflation

-breeding

-pet play

- vore

-fluid play and consumption

- spiking warming

- Heart and spark syncing

- new spike and Valve modifications to test on their human lover

There's originally a lot of unknowns about humans, and cybertronians are rather intrigued, for one the first times the a lot of the crew of lost light had encountered them was on black market and high priced pets, and companions.

There were exceptions such as Perceptor, Ratchet and Megatron who had been around humans before but for a lot of the bots this was their first time seeing them. that is until they are assigned a human communications, relations Ambassador/ liaison.

But after the black market incident it had led a lot of bots into research over humans. And it just spirals more with them discovering some rather dark history with cybertronians keeping humans as playthings. And finding out their ‘interface equipment’ isn't that different from their own, just more organic and smaller.

A late night of drinking at swerve slowly devolved into conversation over their local human. Brainstorm sits nursing his drink of engex while he and others of the ship chat away. "So does it fascinate anyone else over the fact that humans don't have natural plating or any kind of protection for their squishy form?" He brings up, he himself had fallen down the rabbit hole of human porn but didn't quite know how to breach the subject with anyone else.

"Oh Primus, look who decided to join us, thought you were holding up with your Conjunx Chrome!" Swerve said with a chuckle, placing more drinks down. He hopped up onto one of the bar stools and leaned in eagerly, His attention flicks to Brainstorm. "You bring up a good point, Brainstorm," Swerve replied.

"Those squishy humans are really something else, ain't they? No armour, no defences - I'd be scared outta my circuits if I was just soft protoform all the time!, like i’m so surprised squishy hasn't been stepped on yet"

Rodimus nodded in agreement. "Yet they've managed to survive just fine so far. There's obviously more to them than meets the eye. Like i've seen some of the things our ambassador can do like the strange stretching"

"I dunno," Skids chimed in. "Seems pretty fraggin' reckless if you ask me. One good shot and it lights out!"

Rewind shuddered. "Ugh, don't remind me. Just thinking about all those organics and tubes and who knows what else squishing around in there makes my fuel tank turn." He made a dramatic churning sound effect.

Riptide laughed. "I saw a nature documentary once about these hairless ape creatures the humans evolved from. Now THOSE guys were squishy."

“What in Primus have you been watching?!”

“some old earth docs that Percy’s has, bots got a lot of info on Terra and the planet's history” The bots shared a collective laugh at the image. Swerve took a swig of his energon. "Frag, maybe there's something to be said about living on the edge like that! Sure keeps things interesting, its still strange that they are somehow one of the top predators of their planet yet are smaller than half the things they eat"

Brainstorm goes quiet for a moment. "Have you seen how flexible they are?"

Swerve nearly spit out his energon. "Whoa hey, I don't need those kinds of vivid imagery floatin' around my processor thank you very much!, keep the squishy interface vids to yourself" he said, waving his hands animatedly.

"You have to admit, the way those fleshbags can contort themselves is pretty impressive," Skids added. "Must come in handy for.. maintenance." He waggled his optical ridges suggestively.

Brainstorm nodded pensively. "Indeed. Their non-metal structure allows for feats we could never replicate by ourselves." He took a sip of his energon. "Always makes me curious what other evolutionary adaptations they've developed to compensate for such vulnerability. The potential for scientific discovery is endlessly fascinating with their species and ancestors."

Riptide shrugged. "As long as they don't expect ME to try any of their bone-breaking yoga moves," he laughed. "This chassis is meant for tough stuff, not Twister!"

"You think they would be soft, you know if you interface with one?" Brainstorm asked while downing his drink, the engex was slowly going to his processor loosening his lips.

"Oh don't give me that look I know for a fact you all have thought about doing with a human at least once! Rodimus I know for a fact you eye them up everytime our little liaison walks past you" He calls out Rodimus.

Rodimus nearly choked on his energon in an attempt to look innocent. "Wh-what? That's not - I never -" he sputtered in protest, flustered optics darting around at the other bots.

Brainstorm smirked as Rodimus squirmed uncomfortably on the stool. "Oh please, don't try to deny it, Captain. You're about as subtle as a combiner in a supply closet."

"Roddy's got the hots for squishy, who knew!" Swerve giggled uncontrollably.

Skids nudged Riptide playfully. "Hey, maybe we got a xenophiliac on the ship!"

"Alright alright, knock it off you glitches," Rodimus growled, though the blue flush across his face said otherwise. "I was just... curious, that's all. They ARE a strange species."

Swerve tried to contain his laughter. "Ohhh I bet you are more than curious, if you catch my drift!, wanna get up close and personal" More raucous peals of laughter from the group.

Brainstorm stroked his chin in thought. "They do feel intriguingly delicate. I wonder if their flexible frames would be more pleasurable to interface with than our own rigid forms..."

"Have you seen videos of them, they stretch a lot, like a lot, like I know human skin is resilient but i didn't think they were that resilient " Brainstorm states remembering some of the videos he had seen online. Other bots peak up intrigued.

Swerve choked again as his fuel tank nearly turned inside out. "Brainstorm! That's... more than I needed to visualise, thank you very much."

Skids seemed a bit less phased. "Fleshbags gettin' their twist on, huh? Can't say I'm not curious now."

Even Rodimus seemed intrigued despite his earlier protests. "Resilient is an understatement. I've seen some of the contortions that humans can do - it's astounding that their protoforms don't tear apart."

Brainstorm nodded enthusiastically. "Precisely! With the right lubrication and technique, I hypothesise an interface with a limber human form would provide entirely novel sensory data."

Riptide shifted uncomfortably. "Not sure I'm ready to dive into the fleshy deep end just yet.”

Swerve shot him a sly grin. "Aw c'mon Rip, live a little! Where's your sense of adventure?"

Rodimus tried to steer the subject elsewhere. "Let's maybe change topics before someone needs a wipe down. Or Primus forbid, Magnus overhears you lot"

"I hope I did not hear what my processor just heard" Ultra Magnus states while staring down at the group of drinking mechs. A Lot of bots in the bar snicker at the group getting in trouble.

"Come on Sir, get that wrench out of you aft, join us!" Skids called out.

Swerve let out an audible squeak at Ultra Magnus's stern tone, almost dropping his engex in panic. "U-Um, Magnus sir! Fancy seeing you here. We were just, uh, discussing..."

He shot desperate optics at the others for help, but they all seemed to shrink down in their seats under Magnus's disapproving glare.

Rodimus flashed an uneasy grin. "Just having a friendly debate about alien species, you know how it is. Brainstorm was bringing up some, er, interesting biological points..."

Ultra Magnus sighed wearily. "I'd rather not know the details, thank you. Some topics are best left undiscussed in public."

The whole bar erupted into laughter at the group's misfortune. "Ah lay off em Magnus!" one patron called out. "They're just havin' fun!"

Another bot piped up. "Yeah, loosen up that rusty chassis and join us! One drink won't hurt."

Magnus scowled, unamused. But as the encouragement grew louder, he glanced around hesitantly...

Swerve spotted an opening. "C'mon Magnus, live a little! I'll even give you a two-for-one special." He flashed a hopeful grin.

The enforcer grumbled but his resolve was cracking. Against his better judgement, he pulled up a stool. "One drink." Swerve whooped and poured him a double.

They cheer as Magnus sits down to drink with them. Skids speak up. "So brainstorm you saying you'd hook up with a fleshy, get nice and personal with a human" he calls out with a laugh.

Brainstorm leaned forward eagerly. "Why of course! The pursuit of scientific knowledge knows no boundaries. Though upon further review, direct interfacing with an organic might require certain, ah, safety protocols."

Skids peered at him suspiciously. "Exactly what kind of 'research' are you plannin' on doing Brainy?"

Swerve nudged Riptide with a smirk. "I'll bet ya 20 shanix Brainstorm's just trying to find an excuse to get jiggy with the humies!"

Riptide snorted. "No way, I ain't takin' THAT bet!"

Rodimus dropped his face in his palms with a groan. "can we PLEASE stop picturing Brainstorm fragging humans?"

Ultra Magnus coughed on his engex, catching the comment he'd really rather not have heard.

But Brainstorm paid them no mind, lost in scientific contemplation. "The human capacity for sensory input and feedback would provide a rich study on cross-species interface protocol adaptability..."

"INTERFACE PROTOCOLS?!" Swerve shrieked. The table erupted into howls of laughter at Magnus's deeply uncomfortable expression. It was going to be a LONG night indeed.

“Primus Brainstorm you kinky fragger”

"Fine then everyone servo up if your not at least somewhat curious or thought about it at least once" Brainstorm calls out to all of Swerve's bars patrons

"Oooh, Brainstorm's putting us all on the spot!" Swerve giggled with gleeful mischief. He raised his servo without hesitation.

Skids was quick to follow suit, slamming his half-empty glass down. "Frag it, I'll admit it! Those soft squishy bodies got me wonderin' what else they're good for."

To everyone's surprise, Rodimus sheepishly lifted a servo as well, avoiding optic contact with Ultra Magnus. Riptide shrugged and joined in the show of servos, if only to blend in.

The majority of bots in the bar started raising their hands amid roars of laughter and drunken encouragement. Only a select few hesitated, shooting nervous glances at Magnus.

The enforcement officer's expression cycled through outrage, resignation and back to outrage as his gaze swept over the forest of raised servos. "I cannot condone such deviant interest in alien biologies," he protested, voice stiff.

But as more servos stayed stubbornly aloft, Magnus sagged with a weary sigh. After a long moment, he slowly, begrudgingly raised one massive hand as well.

The bar erupted into ear-splitting cheers. Swerve howled with glee, banging his fists on the counter. "Look's like we've all got a bit of xenophile in us after all! Even you, Magnus my mech!"

Magnus buried his faceplate in his servos as Brainstorm cackled maniacally. Once the bar settles back down its Swerve who speaks up with a smirk on his faceplate. "So... which one of you charming mechs are gonna be the first to try and get our lovely Liaison?" He teases.

Rodimus sputtered into his drink at Swerve's question, flushing brighter. "W-what? I never said anything about actually doing anything!, it's all just fantasies Swerve!" he protested in a hissed tone.

Skids rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, well they do have a cute lil' figure. Bet they'd be a wild ride..."

Swerve grinned slyly at Rodimus. "Aw c'mon Captain, don't tell me you ain't thought about it at least once! I bet they'd be real fun to break in, get all soft and pliable..."

Rodimus smacked Swerve upside the helm. "Knock it off!" He shot a pleading glance at Ultra Magnus as if begging for rescue.

But unexpectedly, Brainstorm was the one who spoke up. "While the organic's flexibility is intriguing, directly interfacing could introduce unknown health risks or cultural taboos. Outside the fact our people have kept humans as pets and companions in the past. A more ethical approach would be gaining consent for strictly observational research."

Riptide frowned. "Not sure the liaison would go for that either Storm"

Swerve sighed dreamily. "Just imagine wrapping those soft squishy bits all around you though... bet they'd feel amazing..."

"SWERVE." Magnus's warning tone silenced the cheeky bartender immediately. He turned back to Rodimus with a sigh. "Despite certain... Curiosities, directly engaging an organics such a manner would be unwise, dangerous even, not to mention our form are much larger and could harm a human."

Rewind nodded gratefully at Magnus, relieved the subject was shifting. But the mischievous glint in Swerve's optic suggested his teasing wasn't over yet. It was going to be a long night indeed.

"Relax Mags I'm just riling these drunk mech up. Unless you're interested in our sweet little ambassador" he teases, making other bots choke on their drinks.

Ultra Magnus's icy glare could have frozen Swerve's energon. "Need I remind you this conversation is highly inappropriate and unprofessional," he said sternly.

But to everyone's surprise, Rodimus let out an undignified snort of laughter. "As if Magnus would ever break protocol like that! He'd probably recite the entire Autobot code of conduct while fragging."

The whole bar erupted in howls of mirth at the mental image.

Swerve was nearly rolling on the floor. "Can you imagine?! 'Paragraph 3, subsection B clearly states interfacing with sentient aliens requires prior diplomatic clearance forms in triplicate!'" he cried in a mockingly stiff voice.

Skids were wiping away fuel tears. "Primus if MR. RULES AND REGS ever broke the rules, it'd be one for the history archives!"

Riptide jabbed Skids in the side. "Ten shanix says he'd have them memorising regulations the whole time!"

"Twenty shanix says they'd run screaming first!" Swerve shot back.

The bets and ribbing escalated as more mechs joined in. Across the table, Rodimus shoved Magnus playfully. "C'mon Magnus, live on the wild side for once!"

Magnus's rumbling huff was the only response. Watching his rigid commander finally loosening up filled Swerve with delight. Somehow, some way, he'd find a way to get Magnus to break protocol yet! It was shaping up to be the best night ever.

"Ohhh let's make this fun. I list some bots and you say if you think they would hook up with a human" Riptide states. "Rung, Drift and Ratchet" he calls out the names.

Swerve let out a dramatic gasp. "Ooh spicy!"

"Rung is definitely curious but way too professional. Might let loose over a couple cubes of engex though!"

Skids broke into hysterics at Riptide's suggestions. "Rung and a HUMAN?! Rung doesn't even touch his OWN interface panel!"

Rodimus snorted. "Can you imagine? 'My dear, it seems you're experiencing some psychological interfacing blockers. Please, tell me how that makes you feel.'"

"Drift guy's definitely intrigued by other species, if you know what I mean. Plus he's artsy so he'd probably appreciate the 'aesthetic'." Swerve responds

"Drift might go for it, he's open to new experiences," Rodimus mused with a grin.

Brainstorm nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, his spiritual philosophies suggest an openness to cultural exchange that others may lack. I think if he and ratchet weren't together its something he might try"

"Ratchet. bah! As if that grumpy old rust-bucket would try anything so illogical. Unless she's a doctor too and starts quoting his favourite protocols... then all bets are off!" Skids laughed.

"Ratchet? Nah, too much of a hard aft. He'd just bitch about human biohazards the whole time," Swerve giggled.

"Well if Drift was interested I'm pretty sure that mecn could get ratchet to do anything with the bat of his optics" Rodimus remarks.

The table erupted in raucous laughter. Swerve took a playful bow. "Alright bring on the next victims!"

Riptide rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, how about...Tailgate, Cyclonus, and Whirl?"

Swerve cackled wickedly. "Tailgate would be way too nervous but he'd try for his Conjunx Cyclonus. Cyclonus would 100% use his broody vibes to charm her pants off but only for Tailgate. And Whirl? He doesn't interface, he destroys! So that liaison better watch her interfacing ports around that lunatic!"

Chromedome interjects stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Tailgate would be way too nervous and shy, I think. He'd probably short-circuit just from holding hands!"

Riptide nodded. "Cyclonus has always struck me as the kinky type. Wonder if he's into those squishy bits like Brainstorm thinks..."

"Whirl would frag anything that moves," Rodimus interjected with a grimace. "But I don't think an organic would survive the experience!"

Brainstorm stroked his chin. "Indeed, Whirl's interfacing protocol subroutines seem rather...enthusiastic. Consent might be a fleeting concept. Better to observe from a safe distance."

Swerve shuddered. "Ugh, don't make me picture that psycho getting 'friendly' with a human! I'm tryna keep my fuel down y'know."

The names continue being dropped.

" First Aid! I don't know if the medic-bot's got it in him to break the rules. But I betcha if he did, he'd be real gentle and caring-like. He'd have them feelin' better than new in no time!"

Skids grinned devilishly. "Yeah but would they feel better? Aid's so straight and narrow I bet he'd put em in stasis lock from boredom!"

"Now Perceptor on the other hand..." Swerve tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Bookish type, but you know there's a passionate scientist in there waiting to experiment. Think he'd go slow and methodical, really take his time 'exploring the specimen'."

"his thirst for organic sciences might overpower his good sense," Rewind remarks.

“optimus prime, Prowl and bumblebee ” Chromedome interjects with his own inquiries.

Swerve pretended to wipe away exhaust fumes. "Primus help me, this is gonna be good... Optimus Prime is obviously Mister Morality himself, but you know he's got a secret wild side under all that virtue signalling. Just imagine how freaky he could get with some alien nookie!"

The bar erupted in incredulous, drunken laughter and cheers. Swerve grinned impishly.

"As for Prowl, I'm telling you that stick up his tailpipe is begging to come out and play. One roll in the berth with a naughty fleshy and he'd loosen up reeeal nice!"

"And Bee? He's a sweet kid, but you know what they say, it's always the quiet ones! Between his cute lil' face and that tight chassis, he'd have the human lining up to frag that glitch right into stasis!"

The bar absolutely lost it, bots falling over each other in drunken hysterics. Even Mirage was struggling not to fall off his chair. Swerve took an exaggerated bow as his audience howled.

"Thank you, thank you! I'll be here all cycle! Now who's ready for the next round?" More shouts and clanking glasses answered his call. It was shaping up to be the wildest night at Swerve's yet!

Magnus dropping Megatron's name that really sent them over the edge.

"Megatron?! With the liaison?!" Rodimus howled with laughter, nearly spitting out his drink. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all cycle!"

But Swerve wasn't done. "Megatron? Now THAT'S an image! 'You pathetic fleshbag, you DARE try to mount the great Megatron?! Grovel before my interface array!'"

Magnus adds more information which makes everyone surprised " He and the ambassador are rather close" He states

Rewind speaks up from Chromedome’s side. "Y'know... they do have a certain chemistry. I'll bet under all that scowling and chipped armour there's a softie just waitin' for the right tender touch to melt his spark. And they have got sass to spare bet they could handle Megatron's brooding and snarl!"

"Twenty shanix says he'd have them trembling and beggin' for mercy in no time flat!" Skids bet eagerly.

"You're on!" crowed Riptide. "But I still think Perceptor's the real dark horse..."

#transformers #rodimus #transformers x human #megatron #transformers idw #transformers x reader #transformers lost light #transformers megatron #mtmte swerve #chromedome #mtmte rewind #ultra magnus #valveplug

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the-froschamethyst4 · 20 days ago

Text

Guns and Dahlias

𖤐Pairing: CrimeLord! Ghost x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, harsh language, innocent! Reader, married couple, mentions of violence, guns, blood, kidnapping, knives, drinking, smoking, brief nudity, nipple play, P in V, kissing/making out, age gap (32-40), no codenames,

𖤐Summary: Ghost a Crime Lord that everyone fears, everyone bit his own wife

————

New Years

"I don't care-just bring me my goddamn money, how hard is that," his hand slams on the table making a loud bang. "Listen, listen, I don't fucking care, just bring me the 150,000 and I'll consider not putting 15 bullet holes in your fucking face, you have 24 hours, and if I don't see money in my hand by 7 o'clock, I'm finding you and killing you myself, does that work?"

Simon Riley, a Crime Lord in Manchester, he gives no fucks who you are you make a deal with him or you ask him to do something, he wants something in return doesn't matter how big or small the job is he wants something in return.

In this case some man had asked Simon to stop some illegal weapons getting shipped overseas, and Simon had asked $150,000 in cash as his payment and hasn't received it in over 4 months, and now, he's not giving a shit anymore.

He hangs up and tosses his phone onto his desk, sitting down on his chair and his hands going to his face, just how he wants to spend his New Years, doing work while he should be out there enjoying a party with his wife, but instead is here doing fucking business.

Soon his door was open, he looks up ready to yell at the person to get out, but he met the eyes of his wife, coming in with her glass of wine and a small glass of bourbon.

"Honey?"

"My love, why are you in here? You should be out there, enjoying the party."

"You should be out there too, everyone is wondering where you are, you're all cooped up in here."

"I'll be down soon, I promise."

"Tell that to your mom, she asked me where you were and asked if you slowing down on your...business."

"I'm trying," he takes the glass from her and takes a small sip from it. "Anyone else giving you trouble?" He asked, ready just in case.

"No, no violence or crimes tonight, honey, just come out and party with us," she cups his face and kissed his lips.

"I'll down soon, I have one last call," he says, kissing her forehead and he waits till the door was shut to grab his phone and call his right hand man, John MacTavish.

"Johnny."

"Huh? What's up?" He says.

"I'm having an issue with that...douche bag that still owns me money keep an eye on him and his men, do what's necessary in case someone get out of line."

"Will do, did the missus tell you no killing tonight?" John chuckles on the other side of the phone.

Simon mocks his chuckles. "Funny, and she did, just do it." He growls before hanging up his phone.

Simon puts his phone in his back pocket and opened the door to his office making sure it's shut all the way and locks from the outside, the office was always off limits to everyone expect him, his men and his wife.

He walks downstairs seeing everyone either talk, drink, smoke, play some games or even watched the New Years Party on TV that was shooting from New York.

He sees Y/n sitting on the couch next to her cousins, he's familiar with, most of the guests here were Y/n's family who wanted to come and hang out and even see Y/n if they haven't seen her in a long time. Simon was making his way to Y/n kissing the top of her head and his big, rough calloused hand resting on her shoulder.

Simon then sits next to her his arm going behind her, she leans into his side as her cousin Mark started to talk about his own business, Mark owned a marketing company.

Simon then could feel his phone vibrating in his back pocket, he shakes his head but takes it out of his back pocket, Y/n looks at him and gives him a pout.

"Simon-"

"Just real quick," he says, answering the call and running off to a more quiet and private area.

"What is it?" He sounded mean, and serious. The man on the other line was Johnny giving Simon details about the money being handled, and then how Johnny is watching his men collect the money and they were checking to make it was real and not tempered.

Y/n had left her family at the couch, she walks down the hallway seeing the library door slightly opened and heard Simon's deep and gruff voice from the other side of the door, she pushes it open and walks to her husband.

He hears her heels clicking on the marble flooring so he wasn't too alarmed on who it was, he feels her arms snake around his waist and she is front of him now, her chin resting on his chest looking up at him as he starts talking to Johnny, his eyes were dark, cold and heartless, no sign of emotions.

He hangs up his phone and placed it back in his back pocket, he looks down at Y/n, his eyes changed to warmth, he cups her face and leaned down and kissed her lips.

"Are you done for the night?" She asked.

"Hopefully," Simon says, peppering her face with kisses. "I won't answer my phone anymore for the rest of the night," he says, kissing her lips and soon the kiss became heated.

He picks her up and moves her against the tall window, placing her back on the ground, he takes her hands and traps them in his hands and against the window.

His breathing was heavy and he looks into her eyes, kissing her lips again, she pulls her hands away from his, her hands going to his blonde hair or resting on the nape of his neck.

His lips attacked her neck, kissing it, sucking on it a bit, and even biting it, not leaving marks though. His hands then go her legs and lifts her up and she wraps her legs around his waist. He moves to the one of the chairs that sat in front of the fireplace.

She pulls back from his lips, her hands resting on his shoulders, she moves her hands behind her back and starts unzipping her dress, once it was lose, she moves the straps off her shoulders, exposing her breasts, her nipples were perked up from the sudden coldness.

He smirks when seeing her bare chest in front of her, his hands slid up her waist and goes behind her pulling at the dress to be fully off her body now, but she just waves a finger in his face that he's not in control, she is.

Simon may be the scary man everyone fears, but when it comes to sex, Y/n is in charge not Simon.

She leans forward kissing his lips as his hands just roamed all over her body, going between her body and squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, and rolling her nipples between his fingers.

"Where's Y/n and Simon?" Y/n lifts her head when hearing someone call for them, Simon was still kissing her bare skin, but she pulls away.

Simon looks up at her and smirks.

"What?" He asked.

"We have to keep our guests entertained, we don't have time for this right now," she says.

"Sure, we do, we snuck away from a little bit, we're so close," he pleads.

"No, Si, come on," she fixes herself up and Simon gets off the chair, Y/n goes to window able seeing her reflection fixing her dress, her hair and making sure there are no marks on her body. Simon goes up to her gently smacking her butt and kissing her neck.

"Come on," she pulls him out of the library and they see everyone surrounding the TV, the ball was getting ready to drop. Y/n and Simon grab a drink, and Y/n drags her husband to the crowd and watched the TV as they all yelled at the countdown.

"10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!" Everyone shouts, loud poppers go off, the loud sounds of party blowers going off, couples kissing, children cheering. Simon held Y/n's waist pulling her in and giving her at first a small peck but then pulling her close and the became a bit heated, some cheered, while Y/n was laughing and trying to keep Simon from getting too carried away.

----------------

5:00 AM (Next Morning)

Simon was grunting, he was giving his wife the best pleasure she could be receiving into the New Year, her head back buried into the pillow, her knuckles turned white as she was gripping the soft material.

Her ass bouncing as Simon was gripping her ass, giving a small squeeze, smirking when Y/n would moan his name, her knees weak and she'd let him know that she was feeling good.

"F-Fuck," she moans out.

This has been going on since 3 in the morning, Simon had woken up to feeling himself getting morning wood, he at first didn't want to wake up Y/n but she was already awake, she couldn't sleep but him moving around and being uncomfortable made her ask if he wanted to fuck, and of course this is where we are now.

Y/n could feel herself close to coming and then without warning came on her husbands dick, giving Simon the motivation to come faster and he soon did, he came inside of her.

His forehead rested between her shoulder blades.

"God," he mumbles against her skin. He falls on the bed and Y/n did too, she snuggles up to his side, Simon then picks up Y/n taking her to the bathroom to clean each other up.

-----------------

Simon sat in his office, shirtless and some sweatpants, he was checking emails, answering calls if the phone rang. Y/n was in the kitchen making breakfast for Simon. They made a plate and walked to the office. She pushes it open and smiles at him.

"Here," she says, placing the plate down and she kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, my love," he says. "Smells good."

"Hopefully, it is," she giggles, she walks out of his office and as she rounds the corner, she bumped into Johnny.

"John, you're here early," she says.

"Yeah, I'm just here to speak with the boss," he says.

"I see, he's in his office," she says, walking away, John turns his head seeing just peaking from the bottom of the oversized shirt Y/n's booty cheeks, John knew to control himself, as he turns he is faced with red eyes burning into his soul.

"You better not be fucking thinking something," Simon says, John swallowed a lump in his throat.

John puts his hands up. "No, no, nothing."

"Get in my office," Simon growls.

Doesn't matter if you are friends with Simon since birth, you fuck around with his wife, you will either get a bullet between your eyes or a piercing burning stare into your soul that will scare the absolute shit out of you.

"Updates," Simon says, shutting the door and immediately wanting answers.

-------------------

6:00 AM

Y/n sits on the couch, she had cleaned up a bit from last night before the maids came in, just to help out. Simon had called some maids to come clean up even though Y/n said she could do it, Simon told her.

"I don't want your pretty little hands getting dirty," he says. "I need them to be able to please me when I ask." He teased.

As Y/n sat on the couch, Simon and Johnny had came out of his office, Simon was fixing his blazer and his tie making him look professional, he didn't ignore Y/n to go to the garage and get into a car and leave.

Y/n sits up on her knees turning around as Simon walks to her, cupping her face and kissing her face.

"I'm going to the casino to go pay someone a visit, I'll be back later tonight, okay?"

"Okay, be safe."

"I will." He smiles and gives her one more kiss, before walking to Johnny and they go the the huge garage that held over 13 different cars in the garage, he unlocks a 2024 Bugatti W16 Mistral, a sleek black exterior with red and black interior. It was sleek and a fucking sexy car.

Y/n could hear the loud engine starting up and watching as the black car takes off out of the driveway and the black gate opens up.

----------------

At the casino that of course Simon owned, the man owns 5 different casinos, 3 in London and 2 in Las Vegas, besides being a hardcore Crime Lord, he was one of the most richest man in Manchester.

As he pulls up outside his casino, his first owned casino, one that is hard to get in, the oldest standing casino and the one that makes him the most money, he gives the keys to valet and walks in with Johnny behind him.

A waitress came up to him giving him a glass of bourbon of course all his employees knew who he was, what he did, and they all work for him so if someone suspicious is at the casino they will let him know and he'll come handle it.

Simon knew the man who owed him money would be here tonight, trying to avoid him instead of paying back the $150,000. What an idiot showing up at a casino owned by the very man he was trying to dodge.

They went up to Simon's office that overlooked the casino, Simon went to the window that outlooked at the casino and then window were a one way mirror, no one can see in, but Simon could see out. The windows were also super thick meaning no bullets could go through the glass.

He looks out and sees everyone gambling their hearts out, laughing, drinking, some smoking and some looking intrigued with the waitresses roaming around the casino passing drinks out.

"How long are we waiting?" John asks.

"As long as we need to," Simon was short and blunt with him.

-----------------

12:00 PM

Simon looks down at his patrons, he was scanning everyone faces trying to find someone that is either familiar with the man that owns him money or the guy himself.

But no one, he even looked at people who he deemed as 'suspicious' but nothing. Surely this asshole was coming to his casino, he was given word he would be coming here, which is why Simon is here.

-----------------

Y/n sat on the couch watching TV most of it is News stuff, she had very little interest in, but she watched it anyways. They were talking about a sudden rise in murder cases in downtown London and Manchester. Y/n messes with her fingers worried about Simon.

She of course knows what Simon does for a living room, but isn't scared of him, she was always worried about him. She then turns the channel and sees lunch is on it's way, she gets up off the couch and goes to the kitchen to make herself something.

As she gets to the kitchen what she didn't know was someone watching her from inside the mansion.

-----------------

Simon sits in his chair bored, but he has to deal with it, he is just sitting and waiting, Johnny then comes in.

"Boss...he's here..."

"Good, time to pay him a visit," he fixes himself up and then leaves his office and goes to the table he was at. He sits at the table and the man shudders when he knew Simon sat next to him.

"Harry O' Meta."

"Simon Riley."

"You know why I'm here..." short and sweet. "Where's my goddamn money?" Simon asked as the dealer was passing out the cards to everyone at the table.

"I have it," Harry has a smirk on his face as if he's one step ahead.

"So, where is it?"

"You may want the money...but I have something you may want even more," Harry then passes Simon a photo face down. Simon looks at Harry with a serious look on his face.

Simon grabs the photo...flipping it over and seeing what the photo was. Y/n on the ground blood running out of her mouth, and nose, her hands tied in front of her as she was sitting in a chair but she was knocked over like she was beaten.

Simon slams the photo down on the table and grabs Harry from his seat, lifting him up and slamming him against the nearest wall.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE!?"

"Now, now, Mr. Riley. If you kill me, you'll never find out where she is." Simon stays silent, a low growl rumbling in his throat, before slamming Harry to the ground. He begins to beat him, not enough to kill, but just enough to make him suffer. Enough to make sure Harry felt a fraction of the pain Y/n had endured.

Simon lifts the bloodied man off the ground and yanks him to his office where he slams Harry on the ground.

"Tell me where the fuck my wife is." Simon demands.

"You kill me and you'll never know," Harry reminds Simon.

-----------------

The room was dark, Y/n vision was blurry.

"Oh look who's up, the Queen," one man laughs. Y/n groans from the sudden pain she was feeling in her face.

"Hope boss can hold his own," another says, knowing that Simon could beating the man right now.

One of the men came by and pulls the chair Y/n was on up off the floor, her head felt weak, she could barely hold it up, her head went forward and one of the men pushed her head back making her slam the back of her head on the wooden chair.

"Hey keep your head up, Queen, we have to send the King one more photo of your..." he cups her chin seeing her bruised left eye, cuts covered all over her face, and dried blood under her nose, lip, and chin. "Lovely face," he says, sarcastically and takes a photo.

He pushes her head away and laughs as Y/n groans once more in pain. Dried tear stains stained her cheeks, she needs Simon right now, she just wants to know he's coming to get her, that he's already sent his men to come and find her.

Simon was given a tablet and received the photo he was more disgusted and infuriated that some lowlife and touching his wife, and wants to cut off the hand of every single man that had harmed his wife.

Simon's knuckles turned white seeing the pain in Y/n's eyes, he wished it was him in her place, she didn't deserve any of this, she did nothing wrong and was never involved with Simon's business.

Harry chuckles as Johnny then punches him in the face.

"How can I take her place?" Simon says.

"You can't." Harry chuckles.

PUNCH

"There's a way, there always is, you want me don't you?" Simon says, standing up and then towering over Harry. "How the fuck...do I take her place..?"

"...Turning yourself in...you know, I'm not the man you are after, I'm just his fucking henchman, turn yourself into him, and maybe...he'll spare her life and take yours instead." He chuckles once more.

"Take me to him."

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vanillarosekiss · 1 day ago

Text

♡ p!link ♡

i'm slowly making my way through each link on the list! sorry this is quite shit though. maybe i'll rewrite it, maybe i won't.

warnings: taboo, stepdad!Price x reader, subtle breeding kink, use of daddy ONCE i just had to sorry not sorry, uhhh that's about it (it most probably is not)

Pretty little girl. That's what John thought of you. Was it weird that he was your stepdad? Maybe. Not to him, though. It wasn't like you were related at all, just unfortunate circumstances. Anyway, that wouldn't have stopped him from dreaming about fucking you senseless in your bedroom. And God, did he dream about that almost every night. So imagine his surprise when you decided to prance around the house one evening in the skimpiest little thing he'd ever seen you in; pink lace and silk painting your little figure in a heavenly glow.

He thought you were teasing him at this point, mocking his inability to obtain what he wanted from you.

You were, but you wanted to see how far he'd actually go. So obviously, you went and cleaned the entire house, making sure to spend most of the time on your hands and knees, back facing him so he could get a nice view. Questionable poses for what chores you were doing, unnecessary really, is what he thought. But then again, he wasn't complaining at all.

After a half hour of your teasing, you were flat on your stomach on your bed, lacy babydoll discarded and tiny pink panties pulled to the side as he pounded you mercilessly. Of course, John being considerate of the fact you had neighbours and how controversial it may be for them to find out he was fucking his baby girl (even worse that she was enjoying it) decided to muffle your moans with his large hand. With each thrust you were jolted forward, his cock stretching you out to the point of no return. You'd never felt this full before.

He could tell you were getting restless at once point, when you wouldn't stop squirming against his grip. To this, he just fucked you harder than he already was, grunting from the sheer force his cock was assaulting your hole with.

"Taking me s'well angel." he praised you, trying to calm your convoultions.

You whined into his hand, begging for a release that felt like it would never come.

"S'alright pretty, you can take it. Know you can. Wanted to tease daddy all day, yeah? You wanted this. Fuck, I mean you were practically askin' for it sweeth'art." he let out a short laugh before fastening his pace and eventually letting you cum, feeling your walls tighten around him.

He didn't stop there, though. He slowed down but kept thrusting for a few minutes, before lifting you like you weighed nothing, and laying on his back so that you were riding him.

His hands grabbed onto the fat of your hips, forcing you to grind down onto him, your back arching as you moaned softly.

"C'mon baby, gonna ride me like a good little girl, yeah?"

Tag list: @punkkture @soapisgod @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @caro-line19 @decaffeinateddelusionbread @poohkie90 @lovidovii @xoxoxoaspen @i-ship-stony-and-superfamily @simonrileysdarling

#john price smut #captain john price #cod men #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 #smut #john price #price cod #price x reader #pure smut #vanillarosekiss #⋆˙⟡ 🎞️#⋆˙⟡ 🍰

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r0-boat · 1 month ago

Note

I have a request:

Levi x Mc x Asmo, double teaming, creampie, whatever floats you boat just PLZ I need the mc to be sandwiched in between them-

🌸

aaaaAAAAAAAAA

This is the hardest thing I've ever written.

How the fuck do you make two demons that are least likely to share you fuck you till you pass out...? Alcohol...

Jealous F*ck

Cw: drinking/alcohol, drunk devils, ooc Asmo because he didn't turn anything into an orgy lol, ooc Levi because he didn't straight up murder Asmodeus, degrading, double penetration, Size Kink, slight breeding, creampie, possessiveness, two devils One hole, there's only one-bed trope, etc

Your worst nightmare has come. You could barely handle these two demons on their own, but now here they were in a drunken haze as they pulled you like a tug of war.

It was a good idea in theory to have the kings get together for drinks, in theory.

You've never seen Belphegor sleep in such an uncomfortable position. The moment the alcohol affected his system, He slept like the dead. You hope Beleth comes back to pick him up.

Beelzebub is straight-up gone. Usually, he sticks around with you wherever you are, but it seems like his drunken mind has other plans. He drags Satan and Mammon in together, and they laugh about partying in Abyssos.

Lucifer doesn't drink. You understand that completely He's probably already getting a headache knowing that the kings will be so hungover they'll be asking him for medication later.

That just leaves you with two.

Leviathan, who wasn't fond of alcohol since he would rather not be caught making a fool of himself, was coaxed into drinking. He's relatively the same, all things considered, just weirdly clingy to you now. You tried so hard to pry him off you; He doesn't even say anything, has his arms wrapped around you, attached to you like a barnacle to a ship. Glaring at everyone who came even close to you.

And Asmodeus, who was already shit-faced, giggled and murmured to himself as he lays on the countertop. You don't want to know what his right hand was doing underneath the table.

You wanted to get these two home fast especially Asmodeus, Who seems calm at first, but there's no telling what drunk Asmodeus will do. In this state he was practically a ticking horny time bomb.

Damn you Beelzebub this was your idea in the first place!

You're lucky that some of the bars in Abyssos have rooms. You drag Leviathan by the collar, Asmo follows you complacently like a lovestruck fool clinging to your shirt until you reach one of the rooms. That was until the peace was disturbed when you felt weight lean on you. Asmodeus wraped his arms around you nuzzling into your neck. "Let's share room together darling! I want you so bad."

Leviathan snarled Your hand still on his collar as he grabs you and pulls you to his chest. You could hear a slight slur in his voice "If They share a room with you they might catch an STD! Go fuck yourself!"

Asmodeus, not amused but not entirely surprised by how possessive Leviathan is, smirks. "Oh please. I am as clean as I am beautiful; and besides You think I haven't already done that? You're just mad at that MC doesn't scream your name is loud as they do mine."

Taunting the king of envy was not a good idea. He already feels jealousy bubbling from how good looking Asmodeus was. His mind swirling with thoughts of Asmo stealing you from him. He could not have that. You could see a vein on his head as he snarls "I'm surprised they can even feel anything with your shrimp dick inside them."

You look back and see Asmodeus, his eyebrow twitching... Oh God... You slipped out of Leviathan's hands to talk to The bartender. Only to come back with a blank expression on your face. Both demons look at you with confusion As you finally get the courage to tell them. "There's only one bedroom available..." You squeak. You could hardly believe it either. You read this shit in a fanfiction once. You're not sure if you're blessed or cursed for that trope to become a reality today of all days.

The two Kings looked pissed, at the very notion of having you be in same room as another man. Asmodeus had a rare look of annoyance on his face. Sure, he could just send you to Abbaddon if it wasn't for the fact that he was probably too drunk to use his teleportation magic.

An idea entered his mind, That look of annoyance wiped away into a smirk.

Perhaps instead, he could put the king of envy in his place. The second the two of you walked in, the door to the room was magically locked. Asmodeus grabs hold of you and sits on the bed with you in his lap. The King of Envy's eyes widen as Asmodeus looks back, giving him a smirk. With a hand on your neck and this other slipping underneath your clothes, peeling down just enough for him to see the mark he put right underneath your tummy, which now gave off a faded glow. The mark he gave you was working its magic, making you more sensitive; each small gentle stroke of his fingers gliding underneath your clothes sent shivers down your spine.

Leviathan grits his teeth, seeing the glow of Asmodeus's mark, The fierce look in his eyes focused on you makes you roll your hips against the hard cock underneath you as Levi crawls on top of you his lips immediately going for your neck, He swipes his tongue up before pressing his lips down gently sucking. That gentleness did not last His hand forcefully yanking down your pants and underwear.

Leviathan takes full control as his fingers play with your sensitive parts. Your whole body shakes, gasping and moaning as asmodeus magic make you feel extremely sensitive. Levi's teasing alone could make you cum.

Asmodeus should be mad that Leviathan just took you from him, but honestly, from the way you are shaking and grinding against him, whining and gasping, pleading for more, it was incredibly hot. The king of lust has had threesomes before, but never with another king, in this opportunity sharing you are not was to delicious to pass up.

"grinding against my cock as another man touches you. Such a slut~."

Asmodeus grins Is he buries his face in your hair taking in your scent. Leviathan's brows scrunch as he growls when he feels you grind against his palm.

"You're getting off to this? Worthless whore, One just isn't enough for you is it?" Levi hissed The tips of your fingers pressing against your hole threatening to penetrate.

Asmodeus hums and delight watching your back arch when thick fingers slowly glide inside you. "look how easy they went in. They want this."

"You really are a whore..." Leviathan growls sinking his teeth into your shoulder. "LEVI!" You shriek feeling sharp pain as Leviathan bites down hard enough to leave a mark, his mark.

Asmodeus is a vein demon who would rather not hear his favorite person call out another man's name. Hand clasps over your mouth before fingers invade past your lips. He'll make sure that doesn't happen again. by keeping your mouth stuffed.

Possessive hands and mouths grasping all over your body eager to conquer and claim from leviathan's harsh bites to Asmodeus's soft sucking on your skin.

Asmodeus will not lose again to Leviathan versus cock was already grinding against the curve of your ass He will bully Levi's fingers out of you and replace them with something bigger.

Levi will not lose either You haven't even realized he had taken his clothes off until his fingers left you and replaced of something else.

Sure another demon could just take your mouth. But to them that's second place. Why would they feel your mouth with cum when they could claim you in the most primal way any man could.

If it wasn't for the mark from Asmodeus's magic This would be almost impossible, stretch around two large demon dicks. Let alone have it feel good.

Your eyes roll back as you felt Asmodeus slide inside.

His hand presses against your mouth harder to muffle You're even louder noises as you felt yourself stretched to accommodate another big cock trying to bully its way inside you. Asmodeus hissed in whimpered into your ear feeling the squeeze of you and the throbbing hardness of Leviathan cock against his own shaft.

Leviathan didn't care to react All he was focused on was making you his immediately moving trying to take you from the devil of lusts arms.

Asmodeus, not wanting to let go of you, moved reluctantly until both demons stood up out of the bed, holding you suspended in their arms. Leviathan didn't hesitate to move as soon as he had a better angle slamming his cock deep and hard. With nothing but Levi to grab onto your nails rake against his back Your legs tightening around him But you're mouth still covered forcing to suck on Asmodeus's fingers.

Swept up in lust and the animalistic drive to compete against the other male threatening to take his mate, He moves his hips at the same speed, hands trying to spread you apart to fuck you deeper and faster.

You felt fingers press against your tongue, trying to stop you from saying anything other than a garbled mess. Asmodeus's breath and lips tickle your ear. "You suck my finger so good pretty thing! I want to kiss you so bad!" You could feel the desire in his shaky voice making you clench around the both of them.

If only Asmodeus can remove his stupid hand then Leviathan could kiss you, And damn he wants to. He wants to feel your lips on him. He misses how soft and pillowy they are against him. He's so jealous that Asmodeus has your mouth all to himself when he was generous enough to share your tight milking hole.

"Say that I fuck you better! Say it whore! Say that my cock stretches you more than his! Say that I'm bigger!"

Leviathan snarls again sinking his teeth into your neck trying to go as fast as he can even with his orgasm approaching.

Asmodeus growls pressing his hand harder against your mouth making it harder for you to breathe as you struggle to say anything.

"Don't say that pretty! Call me your husband! Please gorgeous! Tell me that I'm the only man in your life!"

When he finally loosens his hand from your mouth. You struggle to say anything. Whatever you were trying to say just comes out as a garbled mess; as you come around them, milking their cocks together, They also reach their edge coming could, both are cocks squirting so much cum inside you, most of it leaking onto the floor and down your legs. They both stay deep inside you as they emptied their balls as deep as they could.

Hoping perhaps this time one of them will take. Claiming you as his for eternity.

Seeing and feeling your limbs become weak as you threatened to fall their possessiveness subside for a second to comfort and worship you. Leviathan's jealousy still raging inside He didn't hesitate rap his arms fully around you supporting your weakend state. Asmodeus didn't keep his hands off you, neck, nuzzling his face against your neck.

"stop touching them. They had enough of you for one night." Leviathan hissed as he brought you over to the bed His eyes go soft for a second as they lay upon your exhausted form pressing his lips ever so softly against yours before tucking you in bed. Before leaving you to gather his clothes.

When he looked back over he sees Asmodeus an arm underneath you snuggling right against you. He gives him a shit eating smug smile waving his hand goodbye.

That raging green fire boils in Leviathan once again. He was going to leave because the mere thought of staying in the same room as the king of lust and the same man he just had a threesome with pissed him off to no end. But what pissed him off more was knowing what would happen if he was gone leaving you defenseless with that freak.

He grit his teeth throwing his clothes back on the floor before marching over to the bed.

Asmodeus clicked his tongue as Levi snuggled on your side. That Leviathan is as handsome as he is annoying. Squishing his body against you wrapping his arms around you trying to claim as much space on your body as he could.

Asmodeus held you because he loved you and he wants to show it, Leviathan is stubborn to show his love and holds you to claim you as his.

Asmodeus is not afraid like Leviathan, but being has vain as him he will not lose either cuddling closer toward you.

An hour later you yawn your eyes fluttering open. You hadn't even realized what situation you were in until you tried to move. You heard a grown has arms tighten around your form. Your eyes widen looking on either side of you Leviathan snuggling his face against your neck like a teddy bear on the right and on the left Asmodeus laying his head on your chest his hand on your tit...

You were trapped...

And worst of all...

You had to go....

You try again to wiggle yourself free. Smodious crunches his eyebrows groaning and disapproval His hand freeing your tit but wrapping around you.

Fuck!

"please guys... I have to pee..." You quietly plead. Hoping your savior would come soon.

#smut #whb #whb leviathan #whb asmodeus #what in hell is bad #wihib #whb x reader #gn!reader #demon x reader #adult otome game

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sillystarwrites · 25 days ago

Text

Artist’s Muse | MW Daisuke x Reader

A/N: first one shot gang, wish me luck because I am scared.

Summary: Daisuke hasn’t been heard from all day. Worried, reader goes to his quarters and finds out what he’s really up to.

Type: Anya’s intern reader, gender neutral, Fluff/platonic, idk man just read it blehhh

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was quiet. Too quiet. Something was up. Ever since you woke up, and gotten to work in the medbay, something was missing.

Daisuke.

He always poked his head in the room at some point, cracking a joke or giving you and Anya some doodles from his work with Swansea, which you both put up on the board. (Yimpy was your favorite, by the way!) You’d been working for hours, organizing and helping Anya, occasionally going around the ship to help Swansea, since the engineer’s intern was holed up in his quarters.

As of right now, you were just in Utility, taking a break from your intern duties with Anya.

“So…have you heard from Daisuke at all? I haven’t seen him all day.” You started conversation awkwardly, figuring Swansea might know.

“Nope, haven’t seen the kid either. I tried yanking him from his room, but he was working on something. Didn’t even let me in.” Swansea groused, grabbing a wrench from his toolbox as he tightened the bolts on the cryopods, “Can’t help but admit I am a bit worried, the kid doesn’t pull stunts like this often, or at all to be honest.”

“I mean, I could check on him. I’m technically his best friend, right?” you suggested.

“Y’know…I suppose that could work. My next bet was waiting it out, but I’ll send ya down there. Thanks, kid” he spoke, the gratefulness evident.

“Anytime, Mr. Swansea!” you grinned, your feet swiftly carrying you from the utility room, down the metal halls and to the crew’s quarters. You approached his door, “Daisuke” written in dark pink lettering, with doodles of hibiscus flowers around his name. You raised your hand, your fist rapping against the door softly.

“Daisuke, are you in there? Can I come in?” you asked carefully, worried. Something was wrong. It had to be.

“Don’t- don’t come in! I’m busy.” he responded meekly, a hint of nervousness in his voice, “Besides uh- I’m- whatever, just go away.”

“I’m not gonna go away until you either let me in or tell me what’s going on. You’re worrying Swansea and I, as well as everyone else, I’m sure.” you insisted, the concern eating you alive, “You know these doors don’t lock, the only thing stopping me from coming in is the fact you’re responding.”

“Come on, (y/n), it’s really better if you just go, I’ll be done in a bit!” he fought back.

“Daisuke, please, you’re scaring me. I haven’t heard from you all day. I can tell something’s up.” you could hear shuffling from in the room, pens and pencils clicking against the wood of his desk. Your hand gripped the metal knob, turning it slowly.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Daisuke ran up to the door, closing it before you could open it as papers rustled.

It was a few moments before it flung open, the wind slightly pushing your hair back as you were greeted with him brightly smiling self. Before you could even speak, Daisuke spoke over you.

“Here! I’ve been working like, all day on this, so I hope you like it!” He smiled, handing you the paper.

You looked down and…it was a drawing of you. You knew he was good at art but…this was on a different level.

“This is so good!” You gushed, careful not to crumple the paper with excitement, “Swansea’s gonna be absolutely pissed but y’know, it seems worth it, right?” you chuckled, hugging him, still tenderly handling the masterpiece.

“Oh wow, I didn’t expect you to get this excited, but thanks, (y/n). Thanks a lot.” he hugged back, relishing the feeling of you in his arms.

“Still, you should probably go to Swansea before he chews you out for 12 hours.” you pulled back, smiling still, a fuzzy feeling on your cheeks, “I’ll put this in my room immediately, though, it means a lot!”

“Fine, fine, see ya (y/n)!” He waved, jogging off to Utility. May he rest in peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: sorry if this was short, I don’t write one shots that often, but lemme cook!1!1!1!1!1! 😋

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redflowersociety · 2 months ago

Text

HEADLOCK - [Mouthwashing]

Part 1 - Part 2

It is the year 40xx: almost twenty years since what took place on the pony express cargo ship. You currently work in a space station settled right outside the dwarf planet Haphestus. While reviewing recent data of nearby free-floating objects, an abnormally large mass is located: it’s a cargo ship.

A/N: Hi! I had the idea for a… fix-it au for Mouthwashing with the inclusion of self indulgent Jimmy who takes responsibility. Generally, this is hopefully going to explore all the crew members dynamics if they survived. Basically the entire plot of the game is changed around…. So only read if you’re up for that!!

The sound of a printer buzzing and squeaking pulled your attention off the letter in front of you, and subsequently, the soreness in your chest, if only for a moment. Blinking your burning vision back into focus, you grabbed the warm papers and shifted the letter to the side, replacing its spot in front of you with the fresh inked reports. You sorted through each paper by area code, your brain pulsating at sheer amount of numbers. You rubbed at your temple as you copied down the information into a more organized spreadsheet. Once you got that done, you placed the papers into their respective folders on the wall across the room. You stood up with the hand-written spreadsheet, and exited your office, making your way down the metal corridors.

For the past 5 years, you had been the secretary of the space station settled just outside of the dwarf planet Haphestus (named for being a colony full of factories.) Your job brought along many responsibilities: The safety of the planet you guarded, and of course, filing all the data from nearby space junk to send back down to the planet. Whenever people ask what the job is like, you make a point to explain to them just how engaging it is to do the latter, making no effort to hide your sarcasm.

After a shaky knock at the door, your captain gave the okay to enter her office. “ Mx. Harold!” She greeted you with her usual polite, empty cheeriness.

“Miss. Riley, hey. Here’s the space junk data,” you spoke with less enthusiasm than you meant to, which caused an immediate jolt of panic to shoot through your body. Your hands shook as you placed the sheets onto her desk, and you knew in your gut that she noticed.

“You alright, dear?” She leaned forward in her chair, sliding the papers to the side. Her gaze was so sharp, it was as if it was shooting a bullet hole right through your face.

“I-..I’m alright, sorry, I’m just tired, drank coffee.” You swallowed, taking small, hesitant steps towards the door.

“You can tell me if something is wrong, you know.” She started to stand. Smiling.

“I’m alright, thank you.” You nearly choked on those words, having been standing there without breathing in for a considerable number of seconds. You turned-

“Sit down with me.” She stopped hiding her commands underneath the guise of a kind request. You did as you were told. Miss Riley shifted through the spreadsheets as you sat across from her for what felt like hours. Eventually, her fingertip traced down to a particular column. “You really should be more careful.” She flipped the paper to you, pointing out your mistake. You took a closer look now, having simply been copying and sorting without much thought. The object reported from the scans was unusually big, obscenely sized, and was reported to have the mass of iron.

“…Miss Riley, I just copied what I saw on the scanner reports.” you stammered, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself.

As if upset with you for having brought the information to her, she groaned, leaning back in her chair and turning her gaze to the screen on her left. As if she had seen a ghost, her eyes went large and her mouth hung slightly agape.

“…Miss Riley?”

Exploring old, decrepit cargo ships was never part of your job description. But, considering there being no protocol put in place for such a circumstance, Miss Riley found no issue in making you do it anyways. the sound of metal scraping against itself, and whirring pistons behind you made you jump. The doors were closed. You were on this ship, and had no choice but to look around all alone. You used a test strip to test for breathable air, and once confirmed, took off your oxygen helmet. The damn thing was way too heavy to walk around with.

The bright flashlight in your hand did little to soothe you in the middle of this darkness. The sheer amount of dust getting kicked up with your every step assaulted your nose and made you sneeze more times than you could count. On top of that, it blurred all that was more than five feet in front of you. For a moment, you considered putting the helmet back on.

Stepping through metal corridors with exposed pipes and circuitry, an unusual foam coating the walls in patches; the scenery, the darkness, and the silence aside from your one footsteps, created an ambiance that brought shivers up your spine. you spent a while searching- coming across various rooms.

You had to pry your way in, as the lack of power in the ship meant not a single automatic door, but when you stumbled into the medbay, the first thing that hit you was the smell of iron and rot. blood stained bandages and browned sheets on the stretcher- pill bottles, some empty and some not so much. The labels all read as some outdated pain medication. What really caught your eye was the case left ajar on the crusted stretcher. You recognized the red rim and the outline of a pistol in the foam bottom. This was an empty gun box.

dread beginning to set in, you backed out of the room, sliding back through the half-open door and into the hall. You found yourself in a communal room. It was messy; blood splatters along the table and floor, and a giant broken screen by some dusty couches. “What the fuck happened here,” You wondered aloud.

In no rush, as the fear that gathered in your stomach threatened to paralyze you from the waist down, you headed back into the halls. Eventually, under the crack of a metal door, and through its shattered glass window, was a light blue glow that was jarring compared to the darkness of the rest of the scenery.

“Is this…” you had a feeling about the contents of this room based off that familiar glow. You pried your way inside, slipping yourself through the halfway opened slit you created. In front of you was the jarringly bright shine of 5 active cryopods. The ships power must have allocated to this single room…You were sure of it. You tapped swiftly on your wrist.

“Captain… there are people in here.”

#mouthwashing x reader #jimmy mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing #curly x reader #jimmy x reader #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #fix it #fix it fic #fix it au #fix it fanfiction #oh man oh man #Spotify #headlock

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shxuga · 2 months ago

Text

Whispers of the Deep II | Twisted Wonderland

Jade × Floyd Leech x Female!Reader | Pirate AU | Part I

You shouldn't be so surprised by your captain’s and crewmates' reactions.

But damn it! It was more disappointing than you expected.

When you stumbled back onto the Rosehearts (which, honestly, had seen better days—the battle had left the poor ship riddled with holes, creaking painfully whenever someone stepped too hard on the bow or stern), you were greeted in a way only those who spend every hour of every day together can appreciate:

“You’re still alive?! Whatever, let’s celebrate!”

You needed a decent meal and lots of water to feel like yourself again after that month. But of course, Ace wouldn’t let you go without downing several rounds of beer in your honor first. Deuce was easily dragged along by the others, and Cater didn’t hesitate to join the impromptu party held that night at the bay.

It took you hours to track down your captain and Mr. Trey, ready to deliver a detailed report and reveal the truth behind your absence. Most of the crew gathered as witnesses, not quite drunk enough to miss the big revelation.

“Mermaids… No, mermen. I encountered mermen.” You revealed it with your usual seriousness, though your expression betrayed a flicker of determination.

A wave of drunken laughter greeted you after a moment of tense silence. Even Cater, the one responsible for spreading all those wild tales, couldn’t hold back his loud, stomach-clutching laughter as he pounded on the poor rookie seated next to him.

“Maybe you hallucinated? You know, that happens when you barely eat or drink at sea,” Trey said gently, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You kept a blank expression as you watched the rest of the idiots who refused to stop laughing at you.

“She probably drank too much seawater!” Ace chirped between fits of laughter, setting off another round of shrieks and amused exclamations from the others.

You were tempted to use the knife you’d taken from Floyd after cutting off his scale and slice his tongue, but your captain intervened faster.

“In any case,” he said firmly, his tone silencing the laughter instantly as he shot everyone a warning look, “it’s good to see you’re well. For now, get some rest.”

And as much as you were tempted to press the issue and prove your words true, you were exhausted. You needed to sleep for at least two days. After that, you’d think about your next move and stop ignoring the tingling that surged through your body every time you glanced at the scale.

• • •

You recovered quickly. It was to be expected; despite your encounter with those two furious eels, they hadn’t done more damage than a couple of scratches on your side. However, there was an uncomfortable feeling inside you that, somehow, made it seem like it was slowly killing you.

As planned, two days after eating and sleeping well, you stormed into your captain’s cabin and presented your strongest evidence as a last resort:

The scale.

“You’re saying... this black stone is the scale of a merman?” he raised an eyebrow. You blinked like an owl, and Trey, behind you, struggled to stifle a laugh.

It was true your eye was damaged, you couldn’t deny that, but the bluish-green glow surrounding the scale every time you pulled it from your pocket was as obvious as the fact that the sky was blue and the sea salty. Just in case, you took the appendage between your fingers and held it close to your eye, stunned, ignoring how your captain’s confused look quickly turned to impatience. The lieutenant behind you stopped laughing to try and rescue you before it was too late.

“A black stone... you say?”

“Get out of here.”

You couldn’t argue. Trey kicked you out of the cabin before you could even notice your mistake.

Frankly, you were anxious. You would have preferred to bury this incident deep in your mind and continue with your chaotic life, treating it like a bad dream or something. But that damn scale was a reminder that it had all been real—very real. You tried every possible way to get rid of it: you threw it into the sea, buried it in the sand, tossed it into a bonfire, and even placed it on one of Cater’s plates, watching as he swallowed it.

But somehow, it always returned to the same spot.

By the third day, the anxiety had crawled into your insides. It slithered through them, like the skilled hand of a butcher slicing and cutting its prey. You couldn’t look at the sea without that nagging feeling that the pair would emerge from its depths, dragging you down, picking at your mind. You were tense, paranoid at the constant splashes and loud noises filling the ship now that it was under repair. According to Ace, the most experienced carpenter, it would take a whole month to restore the Rosehearts to its former glory.

You decided to distance yourself from the ship and the sea by heading to the village. You hadn’t stepped foot there since you reunited with your crewmates, but now that you were more alert, you noticed a lot of things: mermaids were a recurring topic on this coast. The fantasy of beautiful, half-fish beings was a common theme for anyone with a sea-bound lifestyle... but in this village, mermaids, mermen, and magic were deeply rooted in its very DNA. The cane and wooden houses were adorned with somewhat rudimentary illustrations of these creatures, there were many street vendors on the ground, inviting you to buy trinkets they claimed to have stolen from the very kingdom of Atlantis. Tragic songs, fantastic tales, the clinking of coins, and distant conversations made up the chaotic center of the village. Even in your illiteracy, you recognized how words like “mermaid,” “song,” and “sea” were the most recurring on every corner you passed.

You moved away from the bustle and crowds, with the persistent feeling that you wouldn’t find what you were looking for there. You didn’t know what possessed you to sneak through alleys you had never seen, feeling the wind, smelling of salt, whispering your name, and the scale in your pocket beating with its own pulse. Almost at the edge of the village, you came across a shop that looked... curious. On a small dock that the owner had probably built himself (because the structure didn’t look all that safe), stood a gloomy cabin, with moss, barnacles, and salt stains on the parts closest to the sea. There was a sign above a door made of threads, beads, and seashells, but due to your condition, you didn’t even try to understand what the twisted letters on it could mean.

“This is not a good idea...”

Even so, your feet made their way through the damp, creaking wood. The beads on the door tinkled, announcing your entrance. The smell of rancid fish filled your nostrils as you glanced around the place, keeping your guard up and your good eye scanning the area with suspicion. Moss and pieces of coral were scattered everywhere, the windows were sealed with dark tarps, and the only thing that had prevented you from tripping over the many shelves full of marine trash around you was the dim light of dark candles. The place looked just like the description of a witch or shaman’s house, with all those jars filled with eyes and viscera around you. And right in the center of it all, a large, dark, worn-out cauldron bubbled with a suspicious concoction. Out of curiosity, you shortened the distance between you and the cauldron, drawn by the things floating in the thick, bubbling liquid.

Ugh... it smells like the captain's food.

"It’s been a long time." A voice echoed from within the walls, startling you.

You turned towards the voice’s origin, but saw no one. You looked back at the cauldron, tense. Then, a figure appeared. It was hard to tell if it was a man or a woman, but there was one thing clear: they were beautiful. Their pale skin glowed with a sickly green hue from the soup in the cauldron, their eyes were crescent moons that seemed to contain the very ocean, with all its shades of blue dancing in their sockets, surrounded by thick lashes and laughter. Their hair was something you’d never seen before; it shone like silver, and even though they wore a dark, tattered tunic in a place that stank of fish, you were sure that beautiful, soft hair smelled incredible. As a final touch, those ethereal, flawless features had a pretty mole painted beneath their lip.

You stared, stunned, as the owner of the place sprinkled spices into the cauldron, causing a soft explosion to rise from it.

"Has it been a long time since you had visitors...?"

"It’s been a long time since someone with a scale visits my shop." He looked at you, unperturbed. "Please, have a seat."

His voice was rich and polite, but with a hint of authority. Before you could respond, a chair appeared behind you, and you fell into it.

A hand extended over the cauldron, cutting through the hazy veil that created amorphous shapes of bone-white. Feeling as though you might find the answers to questions you hadn’t even known you had, you obeyed. Taking the appendage from your pocket, you extended it towards them. He took it carefully, bringing it to his face with a solemn and analytical expression.

"Can you see it? When I tried to show it to someone else..."

"They told you it was a stone." You nodded slowly, confused.

"Only those who have formed a bond with a mermaid or triton can recognize a true scale."

"Bond? I didn’t do anything like that, I just defended myself!"

"Your blood and his touched the scale." He replied with boredom. "Whether you like it or not, your life and his are now one."

The chill still hadn’t left your bones when the stranger closed their fingers around the scale. He moved it slowly between his hands, as though examining a rare jewel, and his gaze seemed to shine brighter with each turn.

You couldn’t hold back the question that burned on your tongue.

"Who are you?"

The stranger looked up, and for the first time, they gave you something resembling a smile, though their lips barely curled.

"Azul" He answered in a soft, yet firm voice. His tone had the certainty of someone who knew his name meant far more than it seemed.

Azul. You couldn’t deny that the name suited him like a glove. It was a name as cold and distant as the depths of the sea, but it also had something hypnotic, almost comforting. As if you had heard it before, in a dream you couldn’t quite remember.

"How do you know all this?" You asked with suspicion, your good eye narrowing as you crossed your arms.

Azul didn’t answer right away. He just stared at you, with an unsettling patience. Then, slowly, he placed the scale on the edge of the cauldron, where it began to glow with a pale light that almost seemed to breathe.

"The seas speak." He murmured, not taking his eyes off you "And you, pirate, are now part of their stories."

A different chill ran down your spine. It felt as though an invisible layer that had protected you from the world had been stripped away, and Azul seemed to see it all. As if he knew every detail, even the ones you yourself could barely understand.

"How long has it been since your encounter with the triton?" He asked, his voice serene, but with a hint of urgency that wasn’t there before.

"Three days" You answered, feeling a pang of anxiety as you said it aloud.

Azul tensed for just a moment, but it was enough for you to notice. His eyes, those moons full of ocean, narrowed as he exhaled slowly, as if calculating something.

"Three days... " Azul repeated quietly, as if the number confirmed bad news. He stepped closer to you, so quietly that you barely heard his footsteps. "That’s more time than it should have been."

"What do you mean?" You inquired, trying not to sound as frightened as you felt.

"The bond you’ve created isn’t something you can ignore." He explained, his tone growing graver with every word. "You and the triton are now connected. Separated for too long, both of you... will die."

The words fell like stones in your stomach. You didn’t know whether to laugh, scream, or just run out of that cabin, filled with salt and secrets.

"What kind of joke is this? I didn’t even want that bond!"

"That doesn't matter" Azul replied, looking at you with a mix of compassion and harshness ". What matters is that now, your fate is tied to theirs. If you don’t find them soon, both of you will begin to crumble from within."

The scale, still at the edge of the cauldron, seemed to glow more intensely, as if responding to their words. Your heart pounded, a restless drumbeat in the silence that followed. The creaking of the wood beneath your boots and the salty smell that filled the cabin became even more oppressive after what Azul had said. Death, binding, a shared fate with a creature you barely knew. It wasn’t what you had imagined when you tore that scale from the merman.

Azul took a step back, his eyes fixed on you, as if analyzing every thought crossing your mind.

"How... how do I find them?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"You must go to the farthest beach of the village" He said finally, his voice barely a murmur, blending with the wind outside the cabin ". At midnight. Bring offerings."

You frowned, crossing your arms. The memory of their laughter, the burning sensation of your lungs filling with the sea, and all the desperation you had to fight in your first encounter with those deadly creatures, brought bitterness to your chest.

"Offerings? For the merman who tried to kill me?" You retorted incredulously. "I don’t think he deserves anything."

Azul tilted his head as if considering your comment a mere distraction.

"They’re curious by nature. It wasn’t personal. " he said, shrugging.

The furrow between your brows deepened, you had the impulse to stand up but felt an invisible force holding you back.

"Curious?! No one kills out of curiosity!"

For a moment, something dark passed through Azul’s eyes, a flash of something deep and ancient. When he spoke again, his voice was louder, sharper. You could feel his hostility reverberating through every piece of wood in that cabin. For a brief moment, you saw a shadow full of writhing tentacles projected on his back.

"That’s exactly what humans do. With everything they don’t understand..."

The reproach in his words hit you like a cold wave. Your mouth opened to respond, but nothing came out. It lingered in the air, along with that uncomfortable truth you didn’t have the courage to face. Azul, however, didn’t wait for you to find your response. He took another step closer, his presence filled with an unsettling calm.

"Bring trinkets" he suggested, as if nothing had happened ". Simple things. Utensils, maybe rings or necklaces. They don’t understand human value, but they’re fascinated by shiny things. And if that’s not enough, sing. They’re drawn to music."

You bit your lip, still uncertain, but something in his gaze made you relent. With an exasperated sigh, you nodded slowly.

"This is crazy..."

Azul didn’t respond, simply extending his hand toward you, returning the scale. But now it was tied to a fine, sturdy string, turning it into a necklace that seemed to pulse gently against your skin when you took it. The light from the scale glowed with a faint radiance, almost as if being in contact with you once more brought it back to life.

"Put it on." Azul ordered.

"What?" you asked, looking at the scale as if it were burning your fingers.

"Don’t even think about getting rid of it again" He warned, his tone darker than ever ". If you do, the consequences will be severe."

The threat was clear, and though you wanted to argue, you knew it wouldn’t make much sense. Slowly, you put the necklace on. The scale rested cold against your clavicle, but a strange sense of warmth flooded you moments later.

• • •

It was crazy.

Since you fell into the sea a month ago, nothing had gone the way you wanted. And now you were here, taking trinkets from the ship you called home, dragging a sack like a thief in the middle of the night. Carefully, you managed to reach the beach without waking anyone. It would be a tragedy if they caught you stealing... no matter how useless your loot seemed.

Armed only with an old oil lamp and your trusty knife at your side, you walked along the beach, dragging the sack. You walked for a while, until the Rosehearts, the port, and the village became a distant blur.

You followed Azul's words and made sure to place your offerings very close to where the sea licked your boots with each small wave. You didn't consider yourself someone with exquisite taste, but at least you had enough skill to arrange the cheap trinkets, cups, and cutlery in a way that looked somewhat aesthetic. As a final touch, you placed the hat you stole from Ace, as a kind of personal revenge after he kept mocking you about the whole mermaid thing.

And you waited.

You didn't indulge in the luxury of relaxing by sitting in the sand; your body remained alert. Even though Azul had said that your life and Floyd's were now linked, you didn’t trust that would save you from injury. You had already witnessed his strength and skill underwater, and you wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Minutes passed, and your unease grew.

"Where the hell are they...?"

If Floyd’s life was as much at risk as yours, shouldn’t he be just as anxious to find you?

“And if that’s not enough, sing. They’re attracted to music.”

Azul’s words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You remembered how, that night, only after singing did the creatures deign to appear.

"Damn it..." you muttered, swallowing your pride before beginning to sing.

You weren’t a terrible singer, but you weren’t particularly good either. Besides, you were too tense, and your voice came out stiff and somewhat off-key. However, it improved a little when you decided to hum the parts of My Jolly Sailor Bold that you didn’t remember, following the rhythm of the gentle waves. Too focused on your task, your eyes fixed on the bright moon above your head, you didn’t notice the olive glow starting to emerge slowly in the distance. You cut yourself off abruptly, just a couple of verses from finishing the song, startled by the splashing of the sea, now dangerously close to you.

The splashing grew more insistent, as if the waves themselves were trying to warn you of what was approaching. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, remembering Azul’s words, but that didn’t stop your fingers from tightening around the knife handle at your side. The olive glow split into two figures, and before you could fully prepare yourself, they emerged: Jade and Floyd.

Water dripped from their scales, gleaming under the moonlight. Both of their eyes fixed on you, glowing as if they could read every thought you tried to keep hidden. Floyd smiled first, crawling through the wet sand with a grin that seemed more like a threat than a greeting. You stepped back, not even thinking about whether they might take it as an offense.

"Look, Jade... The human came back. And she even brought us gifts." Floyd made a careless gesture toward the trinkets scattered on the sand, but his eyes never stopped evaluating you.

Jade, however, remained silent, studying you with his characteristic air of calculated calm. His gaze, however, was sharper than any weapon you could wield.

"That seems to be the case, Floyd. Though I wonder... with what intentions?" His voice was soft but left no room for misinterpretation.

Your throat went dry. Despite the tension, you lifted your chin, refusing to show weakness. Azul had warned you that confidence would be crucial.

"I'm not here to fight. Or to rip off any more scales." You let the knife fall to the ground, as a gesture of goodwill. The dry sound it made on the sand was louder than you expected.

Floyd tilted his head, amused.

"Not even a little bit? You sure?" He gave a couple of flaps, bringing him dangerously close to where you stood. You could feel the weight of his presence, every muscle tense beneath the water.

"Floyd." Jade's warning was subtle but effective. His brother stepped back, though the grin never left his face.

You took a deep breath, feeling how, with their presence, something inside you loosened. Not entirely, but enough. As if that constant tension, that invisible knot that had followed you since that night at sea, started to dissolve. You hadn’t realized how heavy it had been until now. Azul was right, being away from him was killing you.

"I brought something... that I think you might like." You gestured toward the small improvised altar in front of them. Your voice didn’t tremble, and that was an achievement in itself, but the real relief was in your chest, less tight, as if, at least for now, you could allow yourself to breathe.

Floyd looked at the trinkets with an amused expression, while Jade, more contained, scanned each item carefully.

"And what's this supposed to be?" Floyd asked, a flash of amusement in his eyes. "A bribe?"

"An offering." You clarified, keeping your gaze fixed on both of them. You weren’t going to back down. "The least I could do to have this conversation without ripping each other's heads off."

The sound of the sea mixed with the crunch of your boots on the wet sand. You realized you no longer felt the same weight on your shoulders; dealing with them, although clearly dangerous, felt less exhausting than carrying all this uncertainty alone.

Jade let out a slight sigh, as if measuring your words.

"Why now? You could have hidden and waited for it all to blow over." His tone was soft, but the words were sharp. An implicit challenge.

"Because it’s not going to blow over..." You crossed your arms, feeling an unusual calm. It wasn’t resignation, but a kind of acceptance that allowed you to speak without haste, without the urgency that had accompanied you in the past weeks. "This bond, or whatever it is we have, isn’t going to disappear on its own. In fact, it could have killed us. Besides, I don’t think any of us wants to share our fate with someone we barely know."

The mocking spark in Floyd’s eyes faded, replaced by a shadow of seriousness.

"Share fate?" He repeated, his voice lower. "That sounds poetic."

"It sounds like a nightmare." You corrected him, without altering your tone. Your body was no longer on guard; the feeling of danger persisted, but the mental burden had lightened. "That’s why I’m here. I want to find a way to break it. Without killing anyone."

Jade and Floyd exchanged a look. It was as if they communicated in a silent language, one you couldn’t understand, but their conclusion was clear when Jade spoke.

"And what do you propose?"

"Each of us looks for a solution. I in the human world; you, in the sea." You paused, letting the sound of the waves fill the silence. "We’ll meet here every two days. We share what we find. No tricks, no games. Only results."

Floyd raised an eyebrow, his smile returning slowly.

"And if we find something before you?"

"Then we discuss it." You made an effort to keep your posture relaxed, even though your mind was already planning every possible scenario. "But again: no tricks."

"We need to set rules, then." Jade slightly tilted his head, evaluating you. "The first: no lying. If you do, the deal is off."

You nodded.

"The second: don’t bring anyone else. No humans, no unexpected allies." The weight of his words hit you. They knew about your crew; that feeling of the sea watching you wasn’t just a feeling... it was a truth.

You paused a second longer than necessary, but then nodded again.

"And the last..." Floyd took a step forward, lowering his tone, as if confiding a secret. "If we find a solution without you, don’t expect us to give it to you gently."

"I’m not here for pleasantries." Your words came out softer than you expected. It wasn’t defiance, but certainty. "I’m here to fix this. Period."

The wind blew, and for the first time in days, you didn’t feel like it was ripping something from you. The weight in your mind was real, but less oppressive, as if by sharing this burden with them, even temporarily, the path had become less lonely.

"Two days." Jade turned, disappearing into the water like an elegant shadow. Floyd followed, but stopped just before diving in, throwing you one last smile.

"Don’t be late, little shrimp."

And with one last splash, he was gone.

You stood there, looking at the horizon, breathing in the salty air. For the first time in a long time, the silence didn’t feel like a threat.

Tag list: @valentinaagarcia

#twisted wonderland #twst #ツイステ #ace trappola #deuce spade #jade leech #floyd leech #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #azul ashengrotto #pirate au #fanfic #ao3

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n0tamused · 10 months ago

Text

'Please cannot fix'

Content: angst, character death, gn reader, possible grammar mistakes

Words: 1167

A/N: to that one person said I wouldn't do it - here you go. Suffer with me now.

Once mighty and flamboyant Galaxy Ranger, now nothing but a desperate pile in the mud. The rain hails down onto him like acid, unrelenting as it bashes his back and makes him sink further into the ground. BootHill’s breath is heavy and ragged as he has long lost his voice, crying out to you to keep awake, to hold on until you’re both back at the base, he has already contacted a doctor through a built in radio - why didn’t you listen?

Leftover footprints had long since been washed away, eradicating the proof of his attempts at keeping you alive, as if he never tried.

You had pleaded with him to slow down, he was jostling you too much, doing too much, and you never saw him this panicked. His eyes could barely handle looking at the red gushing out of your wounds and onto the cold iron of his body. He didn’t listen, and kept going, his feet leaping and swallowing the ground under him with sloppy expertise, kicking up rocks and mud before it could stick to him. One of his hands mussed up your nape, patting the skin and pushing your head closer against him until he could feel your breath on his actual skin - on what little he had to feel with. “Just a little more, sugar-” he’d say, turn after turn, thunder growling behind him. Moments feel like minutes, and he swears he can run faster, but he can’t -

“BootHill, stop-!” he froze, his eyes escaping whatever daze his mind spun him into, darting to look at your begging ones. Tears or rain, it made your nose red and your lips quivered with the weight of your words. “Let me go..” You breathed it out, cupping his cheek and turning him to face you, forcing him to feel the fleeting warmth of your palm, it prevented him from running. However, he doesn’t stop moving, he consciously, simply cannot, and for once his artificial body agrees with his organic one; and neither listens to your wishes for him to stop carrying you. “I-I can’t- are you crazy?!” he blurts out sharply, but his face betrays the anger of his tone, his eyes, as wide as yours, show the man crazed with fear of losing something precious beyond life itself.

“No, no, move yer hands away, I can’t see” he grumbles with a tangible tension in his jaw, shaking his head, flicking raindrops from the tips of his hair.

“Please..BootHill..I don’t want this sight to be my last-! Please, put me down” you argued, lungs feeling heavy and full of holes that let the rain in. They burned for life, for air, they sought to be engulfed in warmth of the space ship once more, to breathe in the metallic scent that fill the room as BootHill cleaned his iron from the rain. Just once more. But you knew such a future was only a dream behind your heavy lidded eyes that were harder to pry apart every blink. “Please..just hold me..” you muttered with defeat in your tone, and perhaps it was that which stopped BootHill at long last, or the sight of the bridge that had been split and broken before him, with the raging wide river threatening to swallow the earth itself around it.

He slowly lowered himself to the ground, you in his lap, and his eyes bubbling up with what you could call tears. Translucent blue in color and greasy in texture, his tears fell for you. One metal and freezing hand goes on top of the biggest wound on your torso, pushing down to stop the bleeding.

BootHill never felt more hopeless and useless than he did now. He tried and failed. And most heartbreaking of all, he didn’t protect you when he needed to. When he should have.

The rain fell harder after that. Your body absorbede the cold of it and grew heavier in his lap.

The wind howled over his head and went right through him too.

…..

Your face was the palest he had ever seen.

Your lips blue.

Eyes shut.

Hair slicked back with how many times he ran his fingers through it, keeping it from your face. Keeping you tidy.

You were limp and heavy, and you were still.. whole, as whole as you could be. He had cried all the tears he had within him, and he struggled to breathe for even longer. Feeling raw and more human than he did even before being turned into this walking machinery.

You had held his face, and you apologized to him, and asked him to smile, you asked him to deliver you one more charming line - and he failed you in that too.

….

The silence was unbearable, and the cacophony even worse. Now, in the confined space of his ship, he cracked his voice raw open as he glared at the little hologram of the doctor that turned him into this walking tin can.

BootHill couldn’t stand the sound of his own voice that fluctuated higher with the flare of his anger, every sentence more distraught than the last. It got to the point the Doctor on the receiving end had gone silent as a grave, realizing the futility of trying to speak over BootHill.

‘Bring them back’, he pleaded, hovering over the hologram, making himself feel greater, stronger, and more in control.

‘If you could turn me into this with just ma head alone, you can help them as well!’ he argued, teeth grit together and showing off their points. Like a cornered dog he clawed and bit and held the last pieces of hope in his maw. ‘They’re whole, jus’ a few scratches-’ he added in haste, and the doctor began shaking his head.

‘Please, Doctor, you’ve gotta’ he stared at the flickering hologram, feeling something akin to acid rise in his throat, sick at the thought of denial. No, he wouldn’t give up on you. ‘Why not?! Because they’re not as loud as I am?! What is the reason?!’. He tried to argue and reason with the other man, and when he ran out of reasons he began to repeat the ones he already mentioned.

‘WHY NOT YOU IDIOT?!’ he shouted, now on his knees before the system table in front of him, the hologram now looking much larger than his own figure. His elbows still rested on the table and he felt like strangling the man in front of him through the hologram itself.

He could see the Doctor’s face fall, disappointed at best. And he heard him sigh.

“BootHill. I can’t do it, and I won’t try it.”

The hologram flickered, and then went out, allowing the dark of the spaceship to swallow him whole. Trickles of oil began to seep through cracks in his metalwork, and more of his tears began to bubble up in his eyes. Like claws, his hands fell over his face, muffling a choked cry of anguish.

-Tags: @prettyliliy @nvuy @lofasofabread @teanypaws @molotto

(I just tagged everyone who showed interest when I talked about this idea, pls lemme know if you don't want the tag/want to be removed from the post <3)

#boothill x reader #boothill x you #boothill x gn reader #boothill x y/n #boothill #boothill hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #angst #-n0tamused.angst #honkai star rail imagines #boothill imagines #drabble

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angelsndragons · 3 months ago

Text

okay so as a federal worker, i tell you this not to make you panic but to give you time to do what you need to do:

it's the holiday season. in addition to the federal holidays, federal workers build up leave throughout the year. the longer you've been with the federal government, the more leave you accumulate. this time of year, many federal workers will be taking their "use or lose" leave, aka the leave they've accumulated that's over the 240 hour cap you can carry into the next calendar year.

that means if you have any renewals or want to apply to anything that requires the federal government, DO IT NOW. many departments are already understaffed but this time of year? yeah, skeleton crews are the norm.

please be patient. you can check in every week or two to see where your stuff is but please be patient. many of us are going to be working our butts off in the next three months to ensure your stuff gets done. but we're only human. if you have an agency number, calling is often better than emailing. yes, even if you have to wait on the line for a while.

notaries can be extremely backed up. if you have an appointment which requires a notary's signature, make sure that you have every single thing ready the second you walk in. you don't want to have to come back.

understand that the ship of state turns slowly. we do have a lot of mechanisms in place to keep things from falling apart completely HOWEVER this time the Executive Leadership is directly coming at us with the intention of fully dismantling certain departments. chief on their list that i've seen is the department of education. if you have a special needs child in a special ed program or are one yourself, check to see who's funding the program (feds, state, local, etc) and plan accordingly. if the feds pull out their money, you need to know who's handling the gap and what happens if it can't be filled. that goes for other programs like housing.

if the republicans control the house, senate, and white house, expect them to defund everything you care about. the only spending i can see them increasing is the department of defense and border patrol. everything else? huge budget crunch. if you think the government is slow now, is unresponsive now, oh boy, just you wait. this will send a shock wave through the economy - the feds are huge spenders in many areas (sometimes the only thing keeping places afloat). much of the government is too big and unwieldy to dismantle all at once (particularly the pieces entwined with big business) but that doesn't mean they can't launch giant holes into the things they really hate. plan accordingly.

the fda director will try to ban sending abortion pills in the mail. plan accordingly. does this step on the usps' toes? yes. do they care? nope, republicans have been trying to privatize them for years. plan accordingly.

if you want to know the baseline fuckery you'll be expected to deal with, the department of veterans' affairs was shadow run by marvel executives for two years last time. i'm not joking. the white house is going to bypass any pretense of confirming executive leadership by making every single one of them "acting director of such and such." those don't require congressional approval.

if you're a dreamer and you've applied for some kind of federal relief, i would advise you to be extremely careful. your information is in a federal database and the republicans want to round up everyone of latino descent. they've already confirmed that they want to deport whole families irrespective of citizenship to "stop family separation."

stay calm and plan accordingly.

#us politics #american politics #election 2024 #federal fuckery #reference

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 months ago

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In The Gloomy Depths [Chapter 7: Sapphire] [Series Finale]

Series summary: Five years ago, jewel mining tycoon Daemon Targaryen made a promise in order to win your hand in marriage. Now he has broken it and forced you into a voyage across the Atlantic, betraying you in increasingly horrifying ways and using your son as leverage to ensure your cooperation. You have no friends and no allies, except a destitute viola player you can’t seem to get away from…

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), parenthood, dolphins, death and peril, violence (including domestic violence), drinking, smoking, freezing temperatures, murder, if you don’t like Titanic you won’t like this fic!!! 😉

Word count: 5.2k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @nightvyre @mrs-starkgaryen @gemini-mama @ecstaticactus @chattylurker, more in comments 🥰

💎 Thank you for reading (and tolerating all my nautical puns)! 💎

How can love be a curse? How can it be something to fear, to condemn, to break?

She has dreamed of him all her life. First he was a protector, almost fatherlike, and then a remote, bewitching phantom as she crept into adolescence, and then when Harwin Strong died Daemon sailed over Saint George’s Channel to offer her solace in England, and at last the fantasies she never would have confessed to anyone were fulfilled, two marriages and four children later. Rhaenyra remembers what he told her in the mist-draped lakeside cottage where they met in secret, crossing paths like an asteroid striking a planet: My wife means nothing to me. She’s not like us. She is young, and weak, and afraid, and I could never respect that kind of person. Her father owns the last Connemara marble quarry in the world, and I needed a son. But the only woman I want is you.

Aegon fires the pistol as he chases her through the corridors of A-Deck, and when she shrieks nobody hears, or if they do they don’t appear to rescue her; the ship is full of people screaming, sobbing, clawing for their lives against wet walls and locked doors. He shoots and misses again. There’s something wrong with his hands. He keeps fumbling with the gun and almost dropping it, hissing in pain as he squeezes the trigger, and there’s blood staining his fingers.

Good, Rhaenyra thinks. I’m glad he’s hurt. I hope he’s dying.

She sees an open room and ducks inside, slamming the door behind her and barring it with the weight of her body as Aegon rams it with his shoulder. Rhaenyra is surrounded by the trappings of another family who purchased first-class tickets: chairs with velvet upholstery, a faux fireplace, paintings by Rousseau and Boccioni and Homer. The lights flicker and the steel beams of Titanic groan, low and disastrous. There isn’t much time left.

“Daemon!” she yells as loudly as she can. If he hears her, he’ll come running. I have to get to a lifeboat. I have to live for my father, for Jace and Luke and Joffrey, for the children I will one day give Daemon.

Rhaenyra struggles with the lock as Aegon batters the door and it quakes on its hinges. Just as she latches it, he fires the pistol through the door. Wood cracks and splinters; a bullet pierces Rhaenyra’s ribcage like a blade. There is unbearable pressure, and then a sharpness, a pain she believes she cannot stand until it keeps getting bigger, deeper, ripping her open and filling her with dark wet weight like the ocean surging into Titanic. She crumples to the floor. When she coughs, blood spurts out onto her lips. Rhaenyra wipes it away and then stares at the red on her palm.

I can’t die now. My life just became what it was supposed to be.

Aegon punches a hole through the mangled door large enough for him to reach in and unlock it. Then he stands in the threshold looking down at her, his hands shaking but his eyes hard, fierce, unflinching. Rhaenyra has never seen him like this before. She didn’t know he could be good at anything.

“How the fuck did you get on the ship?” Rhaenyra snarls as she scrambles away, hacking up more blood. The black opal ring Daemon gave her gleams like onyx or obsidian, something born of heat and earth and insurmountable, ancient gravity.

Daemon and I were made for each other. The same blood, the same bones, the same will to carve treasures from the bleakest places.

Aegon follows her across the floor, slow stalking steps. He doesn’t answer; instead, he shakes his right hand a few times—steadying himself, casting out tremors like demons—and then grips the pistol with it. He raises the gun, the barrel aimed at Rhaenyra’s face.

“Daemon?!” she screams, but he isn’t here. Then she asks, sudden desperate confusion, her blue eyes wide: “Why are you doing this?”

Aegon’s voice is calm. “Because she can’t be free unless you and Daemon are gone.”

That girl? Daemon’s sad, stupid wife? I’m dying because of HER?

“Father never loved you,” Rhaenyra seethes, red on her teeth, blooddrops spilling from her lips like rubies. Her eyes are cold, glinting sapphires, pools of freezing water that only needs minutes to stop the heart. “Just like Daemon never loved her.”

“I know. And I used to care. It almost killed me, it almost ate me alive. But now I’m better. And I finally know exactly who I’m supposed to be.”

Aegon pulls the trigger.

~~~~~~~~~~

As Daemon descends the Grand Staircase, you crawl down towards the next landing, your head spinning, your hands empty, writhing on your belly like a snake.

The dagger???

But you can’t find it, and you don’t have time to stop and search. Daemon is only a few steps behind you. When your palms hit B-Deck, you try to drag yourself upright, grappling for the banister; but before you can get your feet under you, Daemon kicks you and sends you hurtling down the next flight of stairs. You tumble towards C-Deck, clawing in vain for something to break your fall. Your head strikes the English oak wood and you hear your father’s bewildered voice as he sat at the dining room table in Lough Cutra Castle: Where are you going? When will you be back?

Never, never, never; and now from somewhere below you recognize the roar of rushing water.

“You were going to kill me?!” Daemon taunts as he bears down on you like a storm. Blood soaks his throat and the white shirt beneath his black suit jacket. His eyes are bright, feral, monstrous. “After all those times I spared you when I could have drowned you in a river or a hot bath or the sea? You’re so fucking useless. You really can’t do anything right. All you had to do was shut up and endure, and you could have lived to be an old, old woman with all the comforts my empire afforded you. Now, my dear, you will never see another sunrise. And when Titanic sinks, you’ll be buried with her.”

Down, down, always down towards the ocean floor, you crawl faster away from him as his footsteps grow louder.

“Help,” you moan weakly. Aegon? Anyone? But the only reply is the echoing of your own voice and the sounds of the dying ship: breaking metal, distant screams, gushing torrents of seawater.

You crash into C-Deck and again try to stagger to your feet, but Daemon is here, shoving you as if from a cliffside or off a balcony. And as you plummet down the Grand Staircase towards D-Deck—where the First-Class Dining Saloon is, where Thomas Andrews once assured you that Titanic was unsinkable—it is not hard wooden steps you collide with but swirling ice-cold seawater. You plunge beneath the currents and then come sputtering up to the surface, your white wool coat drenched and threatening to pull you below again like an anchor. You struggle to shed it with arms that are rapidly going numb.

I’m so cold, I’m so cold, if I don’t get out of the water I’ll be dead in minutes—

Daemon’s fingers close around your throat and he forces you under the waist-deep water. You thrash and try to push him away, to pry him off of you, but your muscles seem to have disappeared, they have been scraped off your bones and now you can only wait to die, your breathless lungs burning as your body freezes. You have a sudden vision of Daemon in his firelit study at Lough Cutra Castle, marveling at a shard of Larimar dredged up from the Caribbean Sea and quoting the first known treatise on gemstones, written by Theophrastus in the time of Alexander the Great: Of things formed in the earth, some have their origin from water.

“No!” you scream through the depths, bubbles rising up to air you cannot taste. You claw at Daemon’s hands, but you cannot wound him, cannot get a grip on him, and hasn’t that been true since you married him five years ago?

The dark, freezing water makes you want to give up. It makes death feel easy, painless, inevitable. You imagine faces you’ll never see again: Draco, Aegon, your parents, Fern. You hope Carpathia will be here soon to rescue the survivors. You wonder what will happen to Aegon’s paintings.

Through the water come the muffled booms of explosions, four of them, surely something catastrophic, the ship splitting in half or a distress flare misfired or boilers bursting and shearing through what’s left of the hull. Then Daemon’s hands vanish from your throat and someone is hauling you up out of the icy currents, they are freeing you, they are disinterring you from an oceanic grave.

“I’m here!” Aegon is shouting as you burst into open air, gasping and flailing. He drags you towards the Grand Staircase where you can climb out of the flood, but you’re looking for Daemon. He is a few yards away and floating face-up, one hand clasping his chest and a gurgling sound leaking from his throat. The water around him is turning red. He’s fading, but he’s not dead yet.

“Aegon, he’s still—”

“I know. I’ll take care of him once you’re out of the water. I don’t have any more bullets left.”

“I want to do it.”

“We need to get you dry and warmed up—”

“I want to do it,” you say again, and Aegon lets you go.

You twist off your black opal engagement ring and throw it into the water beside Daemon. Then you place both of you hands on his chest and push him beneath the surface, Aegon standing just behind you with the barrel of the pistol in his grasp in case he has to use it as a club. The glacial seawater froths and whirls as it rises over Daemon’s hemorrhaging chest. He startles—a death rattle, a late rite—and resists feebly, gazing up at you with glassy, disbelieving eyes. They ask: How did this happen? I was supposed to kill you, remember? I own you. I own jewels trapped in subterranean darkness all over the world, and you are the very least of them.

“Draco isn’t yours,” you tell Daemon as you force him under. “Rhaenyra isn’t yours. And I’m not yours either. Now sink and die and make me free.”

He twitches, he bares his crimson teeth at you, but after all this time finally Daemon is the weak one. The rising water flushes maroon around him, his skin goes a frail and translucent bluish-white, his heart is drained until the chambers are cold and grey and empty. You hold him beneath the water until the bubbles roiling up from his nose and mouth disappear. He will never touch you again, he will never hurt anyone, he will never bruise or break or ensnare or captivate. And who will inherit his mines scattered across the planet?

Draco. His only son. And my family and I will act as trustees until he’s eighteen.

“We have to go,” Aegon is saying. He must have taken off his coat before he went into the water after you. He stands shivering in only his white shirt and green corduroy pants, the ocean now lapping at his chest.

“Rhaenyra?” you ask.

“She’s gone. I’m sure.”

“It’s over,” you say softly, feeling weight like stones roll off of you, feeling warmth like sunlight on your face.

As if in reply, the listing ship groans and the lights flicker again. “Not yet,” Aegon says, grabbing your hand. “Let’s hope there’s a lifeboat left.”

You wade to the steps and climb out of the water. Aegon helps you wring out your soaked hair and the skirt of your gown, then snatches his black wool coat off the steps where he left it and puts it on you. You race up the Grand Staircase to C-Deck, and then B-Deck, and then the A-Deck landing where you find your green handbag with Aegon’s tiny aluminum lighter still inside.

“I think you dropped this,” Aegon says when he spots the dagger on a nearby step, still covered with Daemon’s blood. He wipes it clean on his corduroy pants and then passes it to you. When you hesitate to take it, he grins. “Who knows. You might need to stab someone else tonight.”

“I never want to draw blood again.” But you accept the dagger and place it in your handbag, the captive gemstones glimmering there: amethyst, tiger’s eye, black opal, emerald, ruby, bloodstone, sapphire like the North Atlantic Ocean that is swallowing Titanic down into her cold, crushing belly. Then you ascend one last flight of steps to the Boat Deck, passing the bronze cherub statue and the ticking clock, stealing a glimpse up at the dome of glass and wrought iron that will soon shatter when the sea punctures through it like a bullet or a blade.

Outside the night air is so frigid that ice crystals begin forming in your hair, and the hem of your blue gown begins to stiffen as it freezes. You are barefoot, you only now realize, and if splinters from the pine planks of the deck needle their way into your flesh you won’t be able to feel them. There are only two lifeboats left on this side of the ship, one of which is already being lowered down to the sea. Officers are still directing women and children into the other. Benjamin Guggenheim and his companions are very drunk, clumsily herding frantic first-class passengers towards the boats. The string quartet is now playing The Merry Widow by Franz Lehár.

“Come, come quickly, Lady Targaryen!” the officers shout when they see you, knowing by your gown that you belong here, perhaps recognizing you from strolls on the Promenade Deck or when you and Daemon boarded Titanic in Cork with much fanfare. Aegon helps you into the lifeboat, his wounded hands cradling yours. Another distress flare is shot into the sky, metallic rain, doomsday portents.

We’re going to be alright, you think. We’re going to survive this.

“Darling, you’re sopping wet!” one of the women in the lifeboat exclaims, and they all begin to fret over you. There are dogs here, a Pomeranian in one lap, a Yorkshire terrier in another.

“Get her under a blanket,” Aegon is saying. “Keep her warm or she’ll get pneumonia. Give her a lifebelt.”

“We will, we will,” another lady shimmering in jewels—a mother of two boys in heavy coats and blue-striped pajamas—promises him. “We’ll take good care of her.”

You turn back to Aegon. “What?”

He tells you, his voice quiet: “Petra, they’re not going to let me in.”

“No, no, you can’t stay here—”

“Women and children only!” an officer booms, then begins waving several shrieking maids towards the vessel, just moments from launching.

“Aegon,” you say, horrified. He’ll die if he stays. He’ll drown or he’ll freeze and he’ll be entombed at the bottom of the Atlantic. “No.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“No you won’t,” you sob, then look desperately at the officers. How can I change their minds? “He’s a Targaryen, he’s a first-class passenger, he must be allowed aboard!”

“A Targaryen?!” one of the officers says distractedly as he battles with the rigging. “I know all the Targaryens on Titanic, and he’s not one of them!”

“Just look at him,” the other officer mutters, meaning: He isn’t dressed like someone with castles or mansions or titles or mines. He can’t be someone who matters.

“He is,” you plead, tears stinging on your cheeks as they freeze. “He’s Aegon, he’s a Targaryen, please, he can’t be left behind—”

“Women and children only!” the first officer barks at you as the other pushes away a group of panicked young men in black suits trying to bribe their way into the vessel. “And if you want to stay here with him, that’s your business, but get to it so the rest of us can try to make it off this ship alive!”

“There’s more than enough room for him, for Christ’s sake, there are dogs in here!”

“There will be other lifeboats, love,” one of the women tells you as she drapes a scratchy wool blanket across your shoulders, but you don’t believe that’s true. The maids are climbing into the lifeboat; the officers are beginning to lower it with sharp lurches that make the occupants gasp.

You reach for Aegon, your hands catching on his drenched shirt, the thin layer of ice cracking beneath your fingers. “No, no, Aegon, I can’t go like this.”

“You have to,” he says calmly, and he holds you face still and touches his lips to your forehead, a kiss goodbye, gentle and lingering.

“No—”

“You have a kid. You have to go. Draco will be looking for you on Carpathia.”

“You deserve to be free too.”

“I’ll stay out of the water for as long as I can,” Aegon says like a vow. “I’ll try to find something to float on. And once Titanic goes down…maybe the lifeboats will come back to pick up any survivors.”

The water is too cold. I’ve felt it, I’ve been paralyzed by it, once you go under you only have minutes. “You can’t…you won’t…”

“Petra,” Aegon says, and his eyes turn desperate. He knows it’s his only chance. “Make them come back for me.”

“I will,” you swear to him.

And he pries your fingers off his shirt and rips away from you before your resolve can weaken. High above and through tears that blur your vision, constellations of stars gleam like diamonds.

~~~~~~~~~~

He runs to the other side of the Boat Deck, searching for lifeboats that haven’t launched yet. He can’t find any. There are swarms of passengers weeping, shouting, jostling, and officers trying to restore order. Pistols and flares are fired, chairs are tossed overboard for passengers to cling to as they float. But Aegon knows that won’t be enough; if they stay submerged, they will die.

I need something bigger. I need something I can lie on. A door or a dresser or…

He shoves through the crowd to get to the ship’s railing. Below, the ocean has gotten so much closer. He sees a lifeboat bobbing in the waves, just far enough away that someone brave enough to leap could not get to it. Inside, along with perhaps twenty first-class women and maids, Aegon recognizes Laenor Velaryon and his ever-present Parisian friends. They are puffing on cigars and toasting glasses of brandy, celebrating their good fortune. They must have successfully bribed their way aboard.

“Fuck,” Aegon sighs, his breath fog in the frigid air.

How am I going to stay out of the water long enough to survive until I’m rescued?

Then he replays the evening in his mind—his first night with Petra, perhaps his last night on earth, red silk and candles and oil paint and the warmth of her beneath his hands—and Aegon gets an idea. He sprints back to the Grand Staircase and soars down to B-Deck, seawater ankle-deep on the floor. He splashes through the corridors to the staterooms once occupied by Daemon Targaryen’s wife and child, now rid of him, now waiting for what will come next. Aegon hurries through the sitting room, passing the taxidermied tiger head above the fireplace and the large, heavy chest where Daemon made Petra lock up the art she bought in Paris.

She didn’t remember to put the real Picasso’s paintings in a lifeboat, but she saved mine, Aegon thinks. If I make it out of this alive somehow, I’m marrying her the second we dock in New York.

He goes to the bedroom, finds what he needs, carries it with him as he returns to the maze of hallways. Now the icy water is nipping at his knees.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ocean is calm, the lifeboat rocking placidly on inky surf. The women comfort their children and their dogs. You take Aegon’s aluminum lighter out of your handbag and light yourself a cigarette, then pass it around so the other passengers can thaw their lungs with hot plumes of nicotine, here in the early hours of the morning when it feels like you’ll never be warm again. The officer who took command of the vessel—the same one who shouted at you and refused to admit Aegon—is rowing vigorously as you and several other women help him, staring horror-struck at Titanic as she goes down by the bow.

“We have to get away from the ship,” the officer keeps saying, and he sounds genuinely petrified. A woman in a glittering gold gown steers with the tiller. “Or she’ll suck us into the water with her.”

There are shadows of other lifeboats nearby, also fleeing from the condemned Titanic, that miraculously colossal and opulent triumph that everyone had told you was unsinkable. You wonder which one Draco and Fern are in, undoubtedly cold and frightened but safe.

Aegon deserves to live too. I have to find him, I have to save him.

Now there is seawater flooding over Titanic’s deck at the bow, where you and Aegon saw third-class passengers—now dead, or very soon to be—kicking around pieces of the iceberg that they didn’t know had doomed them. The ocean surges higher, covering B-Deck, and A-Deck, and finally the Boat Deck, where the towering funnels collapse and you can hear shrieks and guns firing. You know you won’t be able to see Aegon from here—you won’t be able to tell if he made it into a lifeboat somehow, or if he is one of the figures that falls from a lethal height into the waves, or if he is crushed or shot or trapped below deck and drowned—but still, you cannot stop looking for him, peering through the night to where Titanic glows in her spotlight of white-gold electric luminescence.

As the bow sinks, the stern begins to rise, higher and higher until the tension cracks the ship in two, and the passengers you share the lifeboat with wail and sob as the ship’s lights blink out for the last time and the gravesite goes dark. Women call out the names of their husbands, fathers, brothers, adult sons, knowing they must be dying. You can only watch with tears streaming down your face, thinking: How could he survive that? How could I have left him?

The stern bobs for a while in the nightscape sea, a shade, a phantom, and then it plunges into the ocean. The water—indifferent, dispassionate, not a mortal but a titan, here long before humans and destined to outlast them, not unlike the treasures of the earth—gulps down metal beams and pine planks and split bones and shredded flesh. There are screams, so many, so pitiful, so loud they fill the sky, and the howling women in the lifeboat cover their ears and those of their children so they will not have to try to exorcise the sound from their memories later.

As soon as the stern has been consumed by the depths, you say to the officer: “We have to go back to look for survivors.”

“Are you mad, Lady Targaryen?” he snaps at you; but there are tears in his bloodshot eyes. “We’ll be mobbed if we sail into that. They’ll pour into the boat until we go under too. Do you want to freeze to death with them?”

“People will die quickly. They are dying already, the water is cold enough to kill in minutes. If we start rowing towards them now, most of the passengers will be dead by the time we get there. And then we can rescue anyone who’s left.” Please still be alive, Aegon.

“Not a chance in hell,” the officer says.

You turn to the other women. They blink back at you in dazed, timid terror. “It’s murder to leave your men behind,” you implore, you beg them to agree. “Help me row to them.”

But the women only weep softly to themselves and look to the officer to tell them what to do. He smirks at you victoriously, an expression of no humor but rather grim, fearful misery that could drive someone insane. In the lap of one woman, the Pomeranian whimpers.

I can’t leave Aegon, you think. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

You open your green handbag and pull out the dagger, the blade pointed at the officer. He shouts and bolts away from you, incredulous, furious.

“You’re threatening to kill me?!”

You shake your head. “I’m offering you a gift.” You turn the dagger around so the officer can grasp the handle. His gaze catches, transfixed and wondrous, on the gemstone spheres like perfectly aligned planets. “This dagger is worth more than you would make in a decade of work. Go back for survivors, and it’s yours. Refuse, and when we are rescued and my son inherits my husband’s fortune, I will make it my life’s work to destroy you. I will follow you anywhere on earth. I will ruin you. So take the dagger as payment and break my curse, and let us save the people who are left.”

The lifeboat sways in the small, serene waves, and the stars revolve high above in a moonless sky, and you and the other women wait for the officer to reply. After a minute or more—we have to go back now, right now, we don’t have much time—he finally lifts the dagger from your open palm and tucks it into his belt.

“Fine,” he says, picking up his oar again. “Let’s go. I cannot abide your damnation. I’ll be haunted by enough ghosts already.”

He and several of the other women row into the throng while you find the flashlights stored in the bottom of the lifeboat, then perch at the bow searching for Aegon. Instead you see hundreds of bluish corpses floating in their lifebelts, dead men and women and children, some of them first-class or crewmembers of the ship but most of them third-class passengers: Italian, Polish, Greek, Syrian, Russian, Chinese, Irish, discarded people, good for dying in the operations of mines or factories or railroads and little else.

“Aegon!” you shout over the water, but he does not answer. There is only the mist of your own words and the sound of cold currents rippling as the lifeboat cuts through them.

Your group saves two people from the sea, both nearly frozen to death and unable to speak: one man floating on a table washed out of a dining room, one little girl clutching her dead mother. Then a long time passes with no living souls to salvage.

“Have we done enough now, Lady Targaryen?” the officer asks you gravely. “Have you seen a sufficient number of the dead to assuage your wrath?”

“Not yet,” you say, steely, your eyes fixed on the water as the flashlight illuminates lifeless faces, scraps of wreckage, nothing, nothing, nothing. And then the light settles on him.

When the stern of Titanic went under, so did Aegon: there are ice crystals in his hair, and his clothes are freezing to his skin, and his lips are blue, and he’s shivering violently. But unlike over 1,000 other passengers, he didn’t stay in the depths long enough to perish as the cold stopped their hearts and lungs. He had something with him, a life raft, a second chance, a treasure mined not from some far-flung crevice of the earth but from the bedroom where he uncovered you, where you found each other and never wanted to go back to the way life felt before.

Aegon is sprawled across the oval-shaped mirror that once stood beside your bed, the fractured glass reflecting the stars that glimmer in the night sky. His ravaged hands cling to the wooden frame. And when the beam of the flashlight skates across his face like moonshine, Aegon knows you’ve come back for him, and he reaches for you until your hands link with his and help pull him aboard.

~~~~~~~~~~

Carpathia arrives an hour later, just before four in the morning on April 15th, and as the sun rises over the North Atlantic Ocean you and Aegon find Draco and Fern on the bow deck, where stewards are distributing blankets and tea to the survivors. Women wander the ship pleading for help finding their lost loved ones, weeping endlessly for their brothers, their fathers, their husbands. Your tears have stopped entirely.

Carpathia’s passengers are generous. They offer in charity their food, their clothing, even their rooms. Children share their books and toys with Draco. Fern teaches him how to play marbles; you read him The Story of Saint Patrick. A doctor onboard disinfects and bandages Aegon’s hands, and assures him that he will be able to play viola again, not now, perhaps not even soon, but one day.

That first afternoon, as you and Aegon are taking a stroll on the Boat Deck, you spot a man painting a scene of the sunset: gold, tiger’s eye, ruby, red beryl. Aegon shows him some of the portraits from his scuffed leather portfolio…though, of course, one in particular is not suitable for mixed company. The man is so impressed that he insists Aegon must not be deprived of the ability to create such beauty for lack of supplies, and gifts him an easel and some paper, brushes, and oil paints.

It’s difficult with his sore, bandaged hands, but Aegon still wants to try, and when his brush begins to shake he asks you to help him. Aegon explains things to you as you steady his hands: chiaroscuro, scumbling, alla prima, glazing, impasto, a foreign language that will soon become familiar. Already, you are learning. And as Carpathia sails into New York Harbor on the evening of April 18th, Aegon takes a paintbrush and draws a circle around your ring finger in vivid, sapphire blue, a worthless gift of no gleaming gems or metal, a vow that means everything.

It’s been years, but Aegon remembers the way to his mother’s house. He leads you, Draco, and Fern to the doorstep of the Hightower mansion on Fifth Avenue. He knocks and a butler answers, a middle-aged man who gapes at Aegon in shellshocked disbelief.

“One…one moment, sir, if you’d be so kind to…to…to just wait here, please,” the butler stammers, then disappears inside. A few minutes later, a different man appears in the threshold. He must be Aemond, tall and white-blonde and precise in every movement, his left eye concealed by a black leather eyepatch. His remaining eye, a clear alert blue, darts to where Fern is holding Draco on her hip and then to you and Aegon, his bandaged hands resting so lightly on you they could never leave a mark.

Then Aemond’s face softens, and there is a kind sort of relief that seeps in, and you imagine your parents will look the same way when you return to Lough Cutra Castle. “You’re home,” he says quietly.

And Aegon smiles and replies: “We all are.”

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